That Was Alchemy, Sir
by acceptmyusernamealready
Summary: Riza Hawkeye learned alchemy from her father. However, she kept it concealed in order to be able to assist Roy Mustang in his dream of becoming Fuhrer. But now she, the Colonel, and the Elric brothers have been swept up in a plot to bring down Amestris. When you have no weapons left, you use what you have available. Even if it destroys everything you have worked for. AU-ish. Royai
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic, so constructive criticism is appreciated!_

Central City

HQ

1400 Hours

Sunshine streamed in through the windows, warming the room. It was a day meant for relaxing on a grassy hillside with a good book and a cold drink. Inside the room, six diligent and skilled officers of the Amestrian military toiled in order to complete the work that kept the military running. Or, at least, one of them did.

The officer looked up from her papers, surveying the room. Master Sergeant Kain Fuery was tinkering with a radio. 2nd Lieutenants Heymans Breda and Jean Havoc were playing cards. Warrant Officer Vato Falman murmured to himself as he did the crossword. And as for the last occupant of the room, Colonel Roy Mustang...

_*Sigh*_

Brown eyes glanced over from the papers in front of them for moment, then looked back down again.

_*Sigh*_

The hand holding the pen quivered, a barely perceptible tremble.

_*Sigh*_

"Sir, if you don't start signing this instant, you will not be leaving this room with all limbs intact."

Colonel Roy Mustang, Hero of Ishval, Flame Alchemist, and self-proclaimed Friend of All Women, jumped, spun, and nearly fell out of his chair at the sound of The Voice. The bird he was watching outside the window chittered its song, oblivious to the deadly aura now filling the room.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, that bird will be just fine on its own if you don't watch it. Now, start signing."

"Yes, ma'am…." Mustang turned back to the pile of paperwork in front of him, knowing it was futile to fight back when First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye used _that _voice. It spoke of the loss of several body parts, slaying of all one's kin, and burning of one's favorite ignition glove if one did not comply. Hawkeye, now satisfied, turned back to the forms in front of her. Across the office, 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc laughed at Mustang.

"She got you good there, sir."

Mustang glared at Havoc over the paperwork still layered high on his desk. "Maybe, instead of watching your superiors, you could get to work on _your _paperwork!"

Havoc shot back "Aw, but where's the fun in that, sir?"

"You won't be having any fun tonight by the time I get through with y-"

BANG BANG

Everyone in the office jumped and looked over at Hawkeye's desk with fear-filled eyes. She placed the pistol, still smoking, on her desk where everyone could see it. Two smoking holes, one above Mustang's head and one above Havoc's, decorated the walls.

"Back to work. NOW."

Furiously nodding in agreement, all those present in the office found a sudden interest in their paperwork and began signing with enthusiasm and vigor. Hawkeye sighed, she was going to have to empty some magazines at the shooting range if her co-workers childish behavior kept up. The stress of the job was getting to her, she was shooting more often now. Her body was almost running purely on caffeine. Just another day at the office.

1600 Hours

The office was quiet, only the sound of pens scratching paper breaking the silence. The one thing in the minds of all the male officers present was the overriding wish to keep Hawkeye happy. As the saying went, a happy Hawkeye is a another day with your children intact. Still, it was one of the better days Mustang's office had seen lately. The only thing that could have ruined it was…

"HEY, COLONEL BASTARD! I GOT YOUR REPORT FOR YOU RIGHT HERE!"

...Edward Elric, also known as the Fullmetal Alchemist and in private, Pipsqueak. He was just back from investigating a series of thefts that used alchemy. Having caught the criminals a week ago, Edward was just now handing in his report. Hawkeye mentally started tallying up the price of reconstruction this time around.

"I hear a voice, but I can't see anything. Did you rig up a hidden speaker, Fuery?"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MICROSCOPIC FLEA?!"

"Brother, calm down!"

Ah, Alphonse. Maybe he could help calm everyone down.

"Hawkeye, get me my microscope. I'm going to do a study of the new species _Fumetallus microscopicus._"

Then again, maybe not.

Hawkeye sighed, and went up with Alphonse to separate the two before they could damage the office with their alchemy. Her hand twitched toward the holster she kept on her thigh, but she caught it. No sense in paying for any more damage than was necessary. She pulled Mustang into his office while Alphonse pulled his brother out, apologizing the entire time. The amount of paperwork still on Mustang's desk was enough to make Hawkeye cringe, and once again she considered pulling out her gun.

"Sir, you have to stop teasing Edward like that. It only distracts you and everyone else from doing work. Now, I'm going down to the range to practice. Think you and the rest of the men can keep working until I get back, sir?"

Mustang sighed and nodded in surrender, knowing it was pointless to argue with his lieutenant. Satisfied, Hawkeye turned around and left.

Mustang watched her go out of the corner of his eye. As soon as the door shut, he put down his pen and got up from the desk. He walked out into the main office and snapped to catch the attention of the rest of the officers. "So, now that Hawkeye's gone, I'm thinking we can all go out to the bar and get a few drinks. All this paperwork can wait until tomorrow, don't you think?"

"Sounds good."

"I'm up for it. Maybe I can finally get a date while I'm at it."

"I-I don't know, we have a lot of work to do…"

"Oh, lighten up Kain! You don't know what you're missing!"

"I guess, but…"

"Alright, that's settled. Come on men, we have date with the bar!" Mustang's subordinates, minus Fuery, cheered in unison before getting up and running to the exit. Mustang was about to follow them, but paused right as he was about to leave. He picked up a pen, scribbled a hasty note, and left it on Hawkeye's desk. He really did regret making her work so late, and planned to make it up to her by buying her something this evening.

2000 Hours

Another empty magazine fell to the floor at Hawkeye's feet. The unfortunate target down range wobbled and fell to the floor as the bullet passed through its head and embedded itself in the wall. With a frown on her face, Hawkeye reloaded and safed the pistol. The stress was getting to her, a few of the rounds had gone wide. The past few days she had been forced to work past midnight to catch up with the backlog of paperwork. She didn't want to worry the Colonel or her coworkers, so she had used some makeup to cover up the bags under her eyes. It didn't cover up that she had become more irritable than usual. Signing out of the shooting range, Riza walked back to the office, intent on getting her work done and then getting some sleep. However, as soon as she walked in the office, she noticed several things. One, everyone was gone. Two, they all still had paperwork to do. Three, there was a note on her desk. She picked it up, mood worsening with every second that she stood there.

_Hey Hawkeye! The guys and I all went out for drinks because paperwork merits it. Don't worry about the paperwork, I'm sure it'll work out. Have a good night!_

_-Roy Mustang_

Growling, Hawkeye tossed the note to the floor and fired a bullet through the offending words. She turned to the paperwork, resigning herself to another sleepless night. The work was too important to neglect, despite what Colonel Mustang might think. As she sat down though, a little voice in the back of her head spoke to her.

_You know, you could make this all go away in an instant. Then you could go home and rest._

"No, this work is too important. I can't leave it."

_You're hearing voices, Hawkeye. You're too tired to do anything productive._

"Shut up, dammit! I have to take up the slack, or we'll all be disciplined for not finishing this work!"

Banishing the voice in her head, Hawkeye put pen to paper and began signing the documents in front of her. The scratch of the pen once again filled the office as Hawkeye worked through the backlog of work. Her eyes slid shut, then blinked open again. She shook her head to clear it, then frowned. The words on the document swam in front of her eyes and concentrating on them was becoming difficult.

_If you're too tired though, you won't be able to protect the Colonel. You might get sick and be forced to take leave, then where would you be? Not by his side, that's where._

As much as she hated to admit it, the voice in her head had a point. She was barely able to read the document in front of her, and she was seeing two pens instead of one.

_You know how to make this all go away, what's holding you back?_

"I can't though, I haven't done that since I was 15."

_You still know how to though, and your body retains the ability. Come on, you know you want to do this._

"...Fine." Deep down, she knew her mind was correct. She needed to get rest and get rid of all this work at the same time, and there was only one way to do that. Hawkeye got up and locked the door.

Recalling the lessons of her younger days, she cleared her mind and the the floor in the middle of the office. Hours spent with her father going over ancient runes and equations flashed through her head, and the tattoo on her back tingled.

"You know, the last time I did this it was to repair the table after my dad scorched it in a flame alchemy experiment. Now I'm cleaning up the Colonel's paperwork. It's funny. I'm always cleaning up after the flame alchemist."

She walked to the center of the office, and took out a small piece of chalk from her back pocket. Hawkeye gazed at the chalk with a sad smile, remembering the last time she had performed a transmutation. She blew dust off the chalk, and drew a circle on the floor. Several lines were then drawn, along with a few runes. Hawkeye then carried all the paperwork to the middle of the circle and left it there in a pile. She inhaled deeply, looked around once last time, then pressed her palms to the edge of the circle. An observer passing by who just happened to look through the thick curtains at just the right angle would have seen a bright light shining through the office window.

Hawkeye left Central HQ as she normally did, saluting the guard at the front gates and taking a left to her apartment. A keen observer would have noticed she glanced behind and around herself more often and her steps carried more tension than they normally did. Six blocks later, she walked up the stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. Black Hayate bounded up to her with his tail wagging, begging to go outside. Hawkeye smiled, bringing Black Hayate to the sidewalk outside where he did his business. She brought him back in and gave him dinner, heating up a simple meal for herself. Afterwards, she shed her uniform and stumbled into the shower. Water poured over her, washing away the tension in her muscles. Shrugging on a nightgown, Hawkeye collapsed into her bed, completely drained by her transmutation.

"It's been some time since I've performed any alchemy… It's no wonder I'm so tired. Still, rest will be good for me…"

With that, her eyes slid shut, and the peace of sleep consumed her.

**A/N: **_I tried to write all the characters with the personalities they show in FMA:B and the manga. This is my first time writing, so all reviews are appreciated! _

…

…

…

…

_...Please don't kill me…:)_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _I'm going to try to update at least once every two weeks, once a week if I can manage. However, finals are coming up, so expect fewer updates towards the end of May and beginning of June. Please have mercy on this chapter._

_Since I forgot to do this first chapter, here is a disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. All I own is this._

* * *

Capital of the Drachman Empire

Ministry of Intelligence

0900 Hours

"Dammit!"

A fist slammed into the table, scattering maps and field reports. "That's six infiltrators we've lost in the past three weeks! How the hell are they getting intercepted?"

A nearby officer carefully spoke, "Well, major general, there are two known state alchemists now present in Central City. It's natural that there would be more intercepts, considering the… _unique _talents they bring to the service of Amestrian Investigations."

Major general Fedor Alexandrov, head of the Ministry of Intelligence, made a dismissive gesture towards the officer. "Even with those two, you'd think that the alchemic crimes we've been staging would have provided enough cover! The last report from operative Crown stated that the Fullmetal Alchemist was tied down investigating those crimes and the Flame Alchemist was busy processing reports."

Another officer, this one a colonel, said "Even so, those could have just been covers for other, clandestine activities. They certainly have the spare time to be running an undercover investigation."

Alexandrov growled, "This cannot continue! We need that intelligence, need to know their weak points! Our sleeper cells won't wait to be activated forever. Their orders are to dispose of their equipment and lay low if they aren't activated within six months. Gentlemen, it has been three months! Three months, without a sense of where Amestris is most vulnerable, where we can strike to weaken them with the greatest efficiency! Those sleeper cells weren't cheap to equip!"

"Major general, I believe I can help remedy this situation."

All eyes in the room turned to a man who had just walked into the room. He was tall, with a muscular build that spoke of many years in the field. He carried himself with a certain easy grace that contradicted the dangerous aura that surrounded him. Here was a man who would as soon slit your throat as look at you with his dark, hooded eyes. Even with one of his legs replaced by automail, he was a perfect representation of lethality.

"And who might you be?"

The man smirked. "Pardon my manners. I am lieutenant colonel Dmitriy Yevgenievich. You do not need to know what department I serve, only that I have authorization from the Emperor to take over all operations in Amestris and to do what is necessary to achieve Drachma's goals."

"You cannot be serious!" Alexandrov shouted. "I have run Amestrian operations for six years! Who are you to simply come in and replace me!"

"I warned you, I have authorization from the Emperor. I am to use any necessary means to relieve you of your command."

"I refuse! I will go to the Emperor himself! Somebody get this man out of h-"

BLAM

Alexandrov froze mid-sentence, then slowly crumpled to the ground, a smoking hole in his head. Yevgenievich shook his head, and replaced a small pistol into his holster. "I warned you, general."

Stepping over the rapidly cooling body, the lieutenant colonel stood in front of the table. "Now then, gentlemen, our first order of business is to eliminate the state alchemists from the scene. Now, to do that, I propose this…"

* * *

Central City

Roy's Apartment

0700 Hours

In the bedroom, Roy Mustang lay sprawled half on the bed, half on the floor. His mind was in a haze brought on by alcohol. He could have lay there forever, except…

BEEP BEEP BEEP

"Dammit, no… don't wanna… do paperwork…"

BEEP BEEP BEEP

"No… please Riza… don't make me go to work today… stay with me…"

BEEP BEEP BEEP

"GAH! What the… Oh, right. 0h Seven Hundred. Time to go to work. Oh God, what happened last night?"

Mustang rolled the other half of his body of the bed, and proceeded to crawl over to his bathroom. He propped himself up in the shower, allowing the warm water to partially revive him. As he leaned against the wall, bits of the night before flashed in his mind.

Havoc hitting on a girl.

The girl hitting Havoc.

Ordering shot after shot with the others.

Fuery giving an impromptu, emotional speech.

Breda and Falman performing karaoke.

Buying something for Hawkeye.

Stumbling home.

Wait.

Buying something for Hawkeye?

_Oh shit! Where is that package?_

Frantically, he shut off the shower, dried off, and ran into the living room. He opened drawers and cabinets, looked under furniture, and generally turned the place upside down searching for the gift. As he tore around the apartment searching for the item, he saw it sitting there innocently on his bedside table. He cursed and picked it up, putting it near his front door.

"Alright, I had better get to work early today. I'm going to need all the help I can get to keep Hawkeye from killing me."

Mustang pulled on his heavy wool uniform, tugged on his ignition gloves, put the gift into his pocket and exited his apartment. He checked the time: 0730. His lieutenant would already be at the office, but if he got there soon he could surprise her and get on her good side. With that thought in mind, he got into his car and drove off.

* * *

Central City

HQ

0800 Hours

Mustang threw open the door to his office and ran inside. He rested his hands on his knees and panted, trying to catch his breath.

_Okay, looks like Hawkeye isn't in the office now, so I can leave the package on her desk and start working. Once she comes in I can-_

"Sir, what are you doing?"

_Or that can happen. Shit._

Mustang stood up and whirled around, plastering his trademark smirk on his face as he prepared to bullshit his way out of the situation. Or at least, he was going to until he saw the look on Hawkeye's face. It froze him in his tracks and blasted his smirk away with the force of one of Major Armstrong's punches.

"H-hello Hawkeye, didn't see you there! What did you do last night? I hope you weren't too busy. You know, a funny thing happened on the way home last night. I…"

"Colonel, with all due respect, you better have a _damn_ good explanation for your little bar adventure last night."

Okay, shit. Mustang's brain went into full contingency mode, and he did the only thing he could think of: he whipped out his present. "Hey Hawkeye, check out what I got for you! I know it's not much, but I thought you'd like it." In his head he added _please don't kill me!_

Now, normally this would not have been enough to deter Hawkeye from giving the office a new set of ventilation holes. However, sleeping more last night had actually improved her mood a lot, and she was in a more forgiving mindset. Add to that the fact that she felt guilty about shirking work last night and the gift was enough to make her consider not pulling out her gun.

"Thank you, sir. You didn't have to, you know." She took the package from him and unwrapped it. Inside lay a pair of brand new, fingerless shooting gloves made of a black cloth. Hawkeye blinked in shock. She had seen these in the store window many times, but never had the money to buy such an expensive brand. Her heart fluttered just a bit as she thought about the colonel going out of his way to buy them for her. How had he known she had always wanted these?

"I know it's pretty simple, but I've noticed you looking at them. I haven't overstepped have I? Do they fit? Do they-"

"Thank you sir. They're perfect for me." Hawkeye silenced him with a tiny smile. She slipped on the gloves, marveling at how light they felt. She would have to spend some time on the range getting used to them.

Mustang smirk was now back and bigger than ever. He had her. "Really then? Then perhaps you would consider allowing me to take just a small break?"

Hawkeye's gun was quickly out and pointed at his jewels. "Nice try sir. Back to work."

* * *

Central City

HQ

1300 Hours

Fuming, Edward Elric stormed down the hallway towards Mustang's office. His automail hand clutched a piece of paper, his other hand made vague strangling gestures. If one looked closely steam could almost seen to be rising from him.

"Stupid military, stupid colonel, stupid freakin' geopolitics! Bad enough that I get an assignment, I have to work with the colonel!"

Alphonse ran after his older brother, trying to calm him down. "Brother, I'm sure it's not that bad. It's only for a week."

"A week? A week with Colonel Matchstick?! I can't do it! I'll go insane!" Edward's boot met the door of the office, and he rushed in. "You bastard! You had something to do with this, didn't you!"

"Fullmetal, what are you talking about? I did not do anything that involved you in the past week. Give me that paper."

Mustang grabbed the paper and read it over. "Hm. Orders to investigate possible Drachman infiltration of high command. Looks like you'll be working with me this time. I don't see the problem though."

"DON'T SEE THE PROBLEM? I HAVE TO SPEND A WEEK WITH YOU!"

Alphonse pulled Edward back, keeping him from attacking the colonel. Hawkeye observed everything with an amused look on her face. Then, something occurred to her.

"Sir, do the orders say anything about anybody else going along with you?"

"Let's see… yes, you are ordered to go along with me and it is strongly advised that Alphonse comes along. We're supposed to head to investigations first thing tomorrow to receive a briefing."

Hawkeye nodded and saluted. She then turned back to her desk to continue working.

"Oh, by the way lieutenant. Does the floor feel different to you today, or is it just me?"

It took all of her self-control not for Hawkeye to panic on the spot. As it was, she her body froze and her mind ground to a halt. She forced herself to calm down and adopted a slightly confused tone as she said "No sir, I didn't notice anything different."

"Hm. Carry on, lieutenant."

* * *

Central City

Riza's Apartment

2200 Hours

Hawkeye made it back to her apartment, shutting the door behind her. She slowly slid to the floor, trembling. The colonel had almost discovered her alchemy from last night. She needed to be more discreet in the future. What was she thinking, fusing the paper with the floor? She let out a breath, composed herself and stood up to go take care of Hayate. Then, she thought of something. From what little she had heard of the Drachman intelligence agency, its operatives were brutally effective. Rumors ranged from them being able to extract confessions from even the toughest soldiers to the field operatives killing men with one hand. It would definitely help for her to have more weapons than simply firearms available to her. If the worst came to pass, she would have to use alchemy to defend the colonel. But alchemy was useless to her if she couldn't get a transmutation circle drawn in time. If she had to draw out all of her transmutations, she might as well engage in hand-to-hand. It would be quicker, at least.

She thought of all the alchemists she had seen or heard of in combat. Major Armstrong punching and shaping rocks. Isaac the Freezer manipulating water. Solf J. Kimblee laughing as he blew Ishval into bits. Colonel Mustang lighting up the night with his alchemy, every snap producing brilliant flames. The dark yet handsome look on his face as he did so…

_Where did _that _come from?! You're acting like a schoolgirl with a crush! Snap out of it Riza! _She shook her head, a blush on her face. She did not have any feelings for the colonel. No matter how much her friends teased her about it, they were co-workers, and that was it. She banished the thought from her mind. She had a job to do, and she needed to figure out how to draw transmutation circles quickly. If only she could bring them along with her.

_That's it! Gah, that's so obvious! A lot of the alchemists I have seen have put their transmutation circles on their gloves or gauntlets. I'm pretty sure my gloves could be used to do something similar. But what would I transmute?_

Then, an idea popped into her head.

_Naturally. What else did I think it would be?_

* * *

Capital of the Drachman Empire

Ministry of Intelligence

2300 Hours

"Sir, are you sure this plan will work?"

"Yes. My experience has shown me that alchemists tend to think too much of their own abilities. Too often, they believe they can see all aspects of a situation when much remains unclear. Our agents have assured me that Flame and Fullmetal are no different. Their pride will be their downfall."

"For the empire."

"For the empire."

* * *

**A/N: **_Gah, this chapter was a hard one. I redid Hawkeye making transmutation gloves at least four times. It still turned out crappy. Oh well. Maybe you guys can help me. And thank you to Sasha Hughes and fullmetal-royed for being my first two reviewers. You made my day. _


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Yay, people like my story! :D It's the reviews that give me the courage to keep going so keep them coming! I hope this chapter meets expectations._

_Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own Fullmetal Alchemist. All rights go to Hiromu Arakawa. I only own this story._

* * *

Hawkeye Household

Year 1888

"_Now Riza, what are the three steps of alchemy?" _

_A chibi-fied version of the Riza Hawkeye we all know and love squeaked "Comprehension, Deconstruction, and, uh, Reconstruction! I think I got it right dad!"_

_Berthold Hawkeye, as per usual, did not show any signs of approval. He stared down at his books, drinking in the ancient words. He moved onto his next test._

"_What is the meaning of one is all, all is one?"_

_Riza had to think for a moment about this. She thought she had the right answer, but she wanted to make sure, otherwise her dad would be upset. "The one is created from the all, and the one also becomes the all. The all cannot exist without the one, and one cannot exist without the all."_

_Berthold nodded. "Now show me a basic transmutation. Use only the materials in this room and the chalk that I provide."_

_Riza nodded eagerly, excited that her father was finally acknowledging her skill in alchemy. For her age, she was exceptionally skill. A large part of that skill came from having a genius father as a teacher. She grabbed the chalk in her hands and swept the floor clear of dust. For a moment she thought hard about what she wanted to transmute. Then, her face brightened and she got to work. A few quick swipes of her chalk later, the circle was complete and she pressed her hands to it. Light shone and a figure appeared in the middle of the circle. "Dad! I did it!"_

_Her dad turned around and instantly paled. Riza was holding up a figure of a woman. A _very _familiar woman. One who had died when Riza was only two._

"_Out. Now."_

_Riza's smile disappeared, replaced by concern. "Dad? Is something wrong?"_

"_Out! Get out! Now!" Berthold's face was white with suppressed rage and grief. Riza gasped in shock and fear, scrambling out the door. The figure of her mother that she had made flew out after her and struck above her head, shattering into tiny pieces that rained down over her. The door slammed shut behind her. She looked at the door in stunned silence, then turned and slowly walked to her room. She closed her door behind her, sat on the bed, and cried._

* * *

Hawkeye Household

Year 1897

"_Riza, come here. I need to talk to you for a second."_

_Now 15 years old, Hawkeye put down a mop and stood in front of her father. "Yes father?"_

"_I have recently taken on an apprentice. He will be arriving in two months. When he arrives, you are not to let him know of your alchemy or help him with his alchemy studies in any way. He must progress or fail based on his abilities alone. You will, however, look after his needs. That means making his meals, cleaning up for him, and providing him with necessary materials. Interact no more than is necessary. Do you understand me?"_

_Hawkeye nodded submissively. She knew better than to question or talk back to her father. It was a far better choice simply to go along with what he said and figure things out as they came. She subconsciously rubbed her arm where it was still sore. "Is there anything else, father?" _

"_No. You are excused."_

_Hawkeye left her father to his books and completed her chores. She then went up to the room and lay on her bed. Her face was impassive but her insides twisted with anger and resentment. Who was this apprentice that he could simply drop in and take over her life? Whatever happened, she was sure that the next few months would be unpleasant at best, hell at worst._

* * *

Riza's Apartment

Central City

0640 Hours

Black Hayate sat at the foot of his mistress's bed. He was hungry, but he knew better than to wake her up before she was ready. Riza Hawkeye's wrath was unmatched by any force on Earth before 0645 hours. Hayate knew in just a few minutes, the sheets would move, brown eyes would blink open, and his mistress would begin her morning routine. In fact, she ought to be getting up right about…

...now. Right on cue, Hawkeye yawned and opened her eyes. Sitting up, she blearily recalled the dream she had last night. She frowned at the memory. Her childhood had not been a particularly happy one. Growing up in an isolated house with a solitary genius of a father had not been the best experience for her, and a late night spent sewing transmutation circles had dredged up memories. Ah well. The past was in the past, and she couldn't change anything about it. The only thing for her to do was to put it behind her and move forwards.

She threw aside her covers and began her morning routine. As she fed Hayate she made a mental note to practice at the range before attending the briefing. It wouldn't hurt to get just a little more practice in before she got her assignment. After she had showered and fed herself, she pulled on her uniform coat and tugged on her gloves. A smile graced her features as she remembered colonel Mustang's face when she had pulled a gun on his future children. The was a good friend, but he needed to focus more. The higher ups wouldn't turn a blind eye to her gun-pulling forever.

* * *

Elric Temporary Residence

Central City

0700 Hours

A large suit of armor stood menacingly over the bed of a young boy. Its face was shadowed and only its glowing red eye holes could be seen. It slowly reached out towards the young boy, about to grab its shoulder when an automail leg snapped out and knocked it into the wall.

"Brother! Wake up! We're going to be late to our briefing with colonel Mustang!" Alphonse Elric pulled himself out of a newly formed crater in the wall, sweat-dropping when he saw the foot shaped dent in his chest. He would have to get Winry to fix that next time he saw her.

"I don't wanna go! I don't want to spend a week with the colonel! This is probably unjustified revenge for Bourlens! I didn't cause that much damage!"

Alphonse sighed. His brother could be so thick-headed sometimes. "Brother, you single-handedly caused 2,000,000 cenz worth of property damage, paid for directly from your superior's funds. I wouldn't be surprised if colonel Mustang was having his revenge but that isn't the case this time. If you don't get up soon, I'm going to have to carry you over to headquarters."

"No!"

Alphonse walked up to Edward's bedside and, with a pull of one metallic arm, hoisted Edward onto the non-spiked part of his shoulder. Ignoring Edward's screams, he left the building and began the walk to Central Headquarters. Humming a cheerful tune, he thought of something. Had Ed's automail rattled a bit when he picked him up?

* * *

Central City

HQ

0730 Hours

A second magazine fell to the floor at Hawkeye's feet. She nodded to herself in satisfaction. More bullet holes now decorated the center of a target 50 meters away. The pistol was reloaded, and she checked out of the shooting range. Thirty minutes were left until the briefing was due to start, so she had time to get a few papers from investigations and make the morning coffee. She made a mental note to requisition more ammunition from Logistics.

Humming lightly to herself Hawkeye walked into the investigations department and flicked on the light. "Sergeant, can you get me the papers for…" Blinking, she stood still in shock for a second. The people in front of her were not from investigations. Facing her were 10 men dressed in unfamiliar uniforms. Then, her mind realized three things. One, those were Drachman uniforms. Two, they were moving towards her. Three, her gun was not out yet. Her body swung into action. Papers fell out of arms as her pistol appeared in her hands. She downed four men with double taps to the chest, then moved to reload her pistol. Her eyes widened in shock and dismay when her hand met only empty air where there should have been another magazine for her pistol.

_Damn! I used my other bullets down at the shooting range! Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit! _

She thought fast. Ducking under the swipe of one Drachman, she swung her steel-toed boot between the legs of another one. A surprised _oof _met her ears as the man's eyes widened and he stumbled back. A savage punch met the stomach of another man as Hawkeye turned to run for the door. She never took the first step though as an iron bar of an arm clamped down over her neck.

"Dammit, this wasn't the plan! We were not supposed to have been discovered this early. Now we are four men down and we need to dispose of this bitch."

"Hold up, I recognize this one. She is the Flame Alchemist's aide. We might be able to use her against him."

"She killed four of our guys! I say we snap her neck here and now."

"Stand down! I'm op leader, and I'm going to decide what we do with her. Knock her out and stash her somewhere secure. We're improvising from here on out."

Hawkeye's vision was slowly turning black, but before she went under she felt a hand clamp a cloth over her mouth. As the chemicals took hold she feebly reached out.

_No… can't let them… take the colonel… can't let them… use me…_

_...colonel…_

_...Roy._

* * *

Central City

HQ

0815 Hours

"Crap! I'm late for the briefing! Hawkeye's gonna kill me!"

Roy Mustang ran down the halls of Central Headquarters, shoving people out of the way. He'd arrived at his office only to find no Hawkeye waiting to berate him for arriving late. It was then he remembered the Very Important Briefing due to take place at 0800. It was now 0815. He was about to get chewed out by the higher-ups, he just knew it. In fact, it was not his superiors that he was worried about, but rather his lieutenant. She'd probably chew his head off when he got to the briefing. Secretly, he knew she was just covering up her relief at seeing him okay, but that didn't mean it was any less terrifying. And just to rub it in, Fullmetal would probably be smirking in the background.

Mustang skidded to a halt outside the door of the Investigations department and flung open the door. He rushed in, intent on apologizing for his tardiness and begging for forgiveness from Hawkeye. Instead, he was met with a rifle butt to the face and a boot to the small of his back. He fell to the floor with a gasp of pain and his hands flew up to cradle his face. His attackers took advantage of his state by grabbing his hands and pulling them to his back, where they were bound. They also ripped off his ignition gloves and threw them to one side.

"Get the cloth! I want this to be nice and clean. No struggling like with the woman."

_Hawkeye? What did they do to her?_

"Who are you? I demand to know who you are and what you are doing!" Mustang shouted as he struggled against the ropes binding his wrists and ankles. Instead of an answer, two hands grabbed his head and forced it against a cloth.

Mustang gasped in reflex, then mentally cursed as he smelled the chemicals soaked into the rag. It was only a matter of time now before he fell unconscious. He was already growing weaker.

_Shit...Riza...What have they done with her?... I recognize their accents, it's Drachma… oh crap Fullmetal! What do they want with us…_

Slowly his struggling stopped and he fell limp against the floor.

* * *

Central City

HQ

0845 Hours

"Damn Mustang, making me get up so early! Alright, where is the investigations department?" Edward Elric walked through the halls of Central Headquarters with his brother in tow. Soldiers jumped out of his way at all costs. One did not get in the way of Edward Elric when he moved with a purpose.

"Uh brother? We passed it a while ago."

"Dammit! Why didn't you tell me Alphonse?"

"I did. You just weren't listening. Really, we should get a kitten. They really help with stress."

Edward screamed with frustration. "For the last time! We are not getting a kitten!"

Alphonse suddenly started crying, which was strange because he was a suit of armor. "You're so cruel brother! How could you do that!"

Edward sighed, used to this by now. He turned around and walked back towards investigations. Alphonse followed him with tears streaming from his eyes. Ed glared at Alphonse as he yanked open the door. He stormed in, fully intent on tearing Mustang a new asshole. Suddenly, an arm reached out and pulled him into the room. There he was slammed into the wall. He gave a surprised grunt as his face met the paint. He lashed out with a vicious kick and one of his attackers flew backwards. His fist came around and met the solar plexus of another one. He was about to finish off the third one with an epic spinning kick when his automail leg shuddered, rattled, and collapsed. With a cry, Ed fell heavily to the ground. Instantly his attackers were upon him, binding his wrists and ankles. Soon a cloth was forced over his mouth and nose and he began to lose consciousness. He saw Alphonse rushing in to rescue him, and him getting his metal limbs taken off with a barrage of suppressed bullets. Now disabled, Alphonse was packed away into prepared crates by his attackers. Then, as the chloroform in the cloth took full effect, he saw no more.

* * *

**A/N: **_This chapter was written while a Dead Space Walkthrough was playing in the background. :)_

_I don't like how this turned out at all. Criticism would be greatly appreciated in making this chapter better. Ugh, this is what the internet will do to one's writing process. Lesson kids: never internet while writing. Thank you to all who reviewed, faved and followed._


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Well, I'm glad to see some people did like the last chapter. Have an Alphonse. ^_

_(0 w 0)_

_Here's the next chapter for you guys!_

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist in any way, shape or form. All I own is this and the original characters within it._

* * *

Central City

HQ

0850 Hours

As Edward Elric slumped to the ground, Corporal Vikentiy Anatolievich shut the crate containing the disassembled armor that was Alphonse. He took a step back and let go a breath he didn't know he was holding. This entire operation had been a snafu from the very start. They had been forced to drug the soldier in the investigations department into unconsciousness. That had been anticipated, but what had not been foreseen was the amount needed. Fully three quarters of the team's supplies had gone into that man and he had not gone down. Even in his drugged state, that monster of a sergeant knocked a Drachman operative into the wall so hard there was still a dent. The major had improvised with chloroform in the supply cabinet. Everything had been working. Then that _bitch _had stumbled on them…

Now, thanks to that woman (What was her name? Hawkeye or something?), four of his friends, including the major and the captain, lay dead on the ground. Due to the shrimp now laying on the ground, another two were incapacitated. It was going to be impossible to move all their prisoners out of the area in a timely manner. The interrogation location would have to be one of the safehouses in the surrounding areas. Sighing, he hefted his gun and prepared to move out.

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

_Pain._

That was the first thing her mind registered as it took stock of her body's situation. It was the pain that came from falling out of bed in the morning, the pain of falling down the stairs. It was a dull ache that spread throughout her entire body. Not too bad per se, but very annoying. She could deal with it if nothing else happened. Slowly, she pried open her eyelids.

The first thing her eyes saw was Colonel Mustang, knocked out and tied up across from her in a large room. As her eyes wandered, she also saw a Drachman soldier leaning against the wall, keen eyes watching both of them. As her eyes moved over him, he noticed her.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. Now we can begin." He walked over to Mustang and shook him hard. When Mustang failed to wake up, he drew his hand back and slapped him in the face. Hard.

"Arrrghh!" Mustang jerked awake, shouting in pain and surprise. He glared at the Drachman soldier, grimacing through the pain. The soldier turned away and shouted something in Drachman. A moment later, another soldier came down into the room along with one more guard.

"I am glad to see you are awake. I hope you weren't roughed up too much."

Mustang growled. "Piss off, you son of a bitch. You aren't getting anything from me!"

The soldier sighed. "I had hoped to do this the easy way. All you have to do is answer a few simple questions for me. It doesn't even have to hurt."

"Fuck you!"

"Who are you people? Where are we?" Hawkeye figured that as long as she was stuck there, she might as well get some information from her captors. Besides, it would take their attention away from the colonel.

"You are not the one asking the questions. We will be the ones getting the answers today. But since I am not a barbarian, I will let you know my identity. I am senior lieutenant Arseniy Romanovich. And I will be your interrogator. Now, let's start with something easy. How many troops are stationed in Central, colonel?"

"Mustang, Roy, Amestrian State Military, 880-443-223RM."

Romanovich sighed. "Please don't do this colonel. I don't enjoy violence. I will ask again. How many troops are stationed in Central?"

"Mustang, Roy, Amestrian State Military, 880-443-223RM."

"Please reconsider your answer. I have limited patience and I find violence distasteful."

"Mustang, Roy, Amestrian State Military, 880-443-223RM. That's all you're going to get out of me, bastard!"

Romanovich grimaced. "Very well. Private?" The soldier standing next to him nodded and walked up to Mustang. He rolled up his sleeves and punched Mustang in the stomach.

"Gah!" Mustang gasped in shock, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"Colonel!"

"Don't tell them anything, Hawkeye! I'll be okay!"

Romanovich smirked. A tiny, humorless smile. "I admire your determination colonel. However useless it may be. You are only prolonging your suffering, you know. Just answer our questions."

"Mustang, Roy, Amestrian State Military, 880-443-223RM!"

Hawkeye squeezed her eyes shut and looked away as more punches landed on the colonel. The thing she couldn't block out was the sound. The sound of Mustang grunting in pain, fists striking all over his body, and the Drachman - he had to be Drachman - interrogator getting more frustrated every second brought back bad memories of her childhood.

_Foolish child! This is not the transmutation I asked for!_

_Why have you not finished your chores?_

_Get back here! I'm going to teach you a lesson!_

With memories of her father and her childhood flowing through her mind's eye, Hawkeye almost missed the colonel's pained cry. But notice it she did.

"Colonel!" Her eyes flew open and took in the colonel's injuries. He had a black eye, bloody nose, and was in pain from what was likely to be bruising over his entire body. His one good eye stared venomously at his tormentor and interrogator. Romanovich was glaring back at him.

"What do you not understand about your situation? You can make this all end if you just answer my questions!"

"Fuck… off… bastard!"

Romanovich growled with anger and frustration. "Very well. If you insist on being stubborn, we will have to turn to other methods. I assure you, if you thought what you just went through was unpleasant, what happens next will be an eye-opening experience. Now, will you give me the answers or not?"

Mustang stayed silent, letting a death glare speak for him. The subject of the death glare closed his eyes and shook his head once, then motioned to his companions. They nodded once, turned on their heels and left the room.

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

"Ugghhh… Winry, did you have to hit me so hard?"

"I don't know who this 'Winry' is, but a blow to the head is the least of your problems."

"Huh?!" Edward started awake, looking about him wildly. He was in a small cell with a cot bolted to the ground with his hands tied behind his back. They were separated to prevent him from using alchemy. That was the least of his problems, however. There was something missing. Something very important. "Where the hell is Alphonse?! What the hell did you do to him?!" He pressed his face to the bars of his cell, staring daggers at the guard.

"Whoa, easy. I'm not going to hurt you." The guard put his hands up and backed away.

"That's not what I'm asking! Where is my brother?!"

"You're brother? Oh, you mean that suit of armor. Don't worry. We disassembled him, but he's fine. Wouldn't shut up on the way here. We had to stuff the crates full of blankets to get him to be quiet." The guard had now backed up to a comfortable distance and unslung a submachine gun. He held it loosely but conspicuously, sending Edward a clear message. Still, he refused to back down.

"You don't scare me! I need to see my brother!"

"Sorry, no can do. Now, do I need to calm you down myself, or are you going to coöperate?" As he said this, the guard casually flicked the safety off and moved his finger over the trigger. Edward had seen Hawkeye use her guns enough to know when the person using them was a professional. Every action this man took spoke of a quiet, unassuming soldier who was capable of blowing your head off at fifty yards. He was also, slowly but surely, losing his patience.

"... Fine. If it will get me to my brother sooner, I'll calm down. Who are you, anyways?"

"Pardon me. I am Corporal Vikentiy Anatolievich. I will be your guard during your stay." That form of that name, if not the name itself, sounded familiar to Edward. Where had he heard something like that before?

"You're Drachman? What do you want with me?"

"That is something you will be finding out shortly. For now, though, make yourself comfortable." Anatolievich had moved back in front of the cell and was sitting in a small chair. His watchful eyes contradicted his relaxed posture. He was clearly taking no chances with the Fullmetal Alchemist.

For some time after that, the two just stared at each other. Edward tried to figure out the man in front of him, find something he could use. So far, all he could tell was that the soldier was extremely good at guarding his true thoughts. For the Drachman's part, he simply looked at Edward with a cool, level gaze, as if he had already figured everything out and was just waiting for Edward to make a move. He figured it was a bluff, but it still unnerved him. He wondered if Mustang or his team would notice or be concerned about his being gone.

* * *

Central City

HQ

1300 Hours

"What do you mean they're missing?!"

The brigadier general slammed his hand down on his desk. "They were supposed to report for a briefing earlier! Where are they?" Lieutenant Havoc and tried not to swallow his cigarette to find his voice.

"T-t-there has been no sign of them, but there are indications that a-a struggle took place in the investigations department. In particular, investigators have found several bullet holes in the walls and signs that heavy objects struck the walls at high speeds."

"Sounds like there was a significant fight there. Lieutenant, I'm am placing you and your co-workers under command of colonel Herschel. You will assist him in his investigation in any way he requires. That is all lieutenant." When a stunned Havoc didn't move, the general frowned. "You have your orders, lieutenant. Carry them out." This snapped Havoc back to reality.

"Yes, sir!" He snapped to attention, a perfect salute, then marched out the door. He walked back down the hallway in a daze. He couldn't believe it. The colonel, Fullmetal, Alphonse, _and _Hawkeye kidnapped? It seemed improbable that such a capable group could be taken all at once. He knew that the colonel, being a State Alchemist and a high-ranking officer, would have plenty of valuable information hidden in his brain. Hawkeye was his bodyguard and where one went the other followed, so it made sense that she would be gone. But Fullmetal and his brother? Despite Fullmetal being a State Alchemist, he rarely associated with the military. Havoc doubted he would have much info in him. And Alphonse didn't know anything about military operations. So why were they kidnapped? It didn't make any sense for the usual terrorists or rebels to take those two.

Havoc opened the door to the office. As he stepped in, all eyes turned to him. "So, what did the general say?" Breda asked. His normally relaxed and disinterested face was tight and worried.

Havoc gave a short answer.

"We're helping the investigation. Get ready to move." He walked over to his desk and pulled out a shotgun and ammunition. As he loaded the weapon, Fuery piped up with a question.

"Do you think their going to be okay?" Havoc was an experienced soldier, but questions like that always hit him in the gut. Fuery's relative innocence only added to the pain of the question. He took a while to respond, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"I'm sure they will Fuery. I'm sure they will." Suddenly, the cigarette didn't seem so comforting anymore.

* * *

**A/N:** _Sheeeet. I could not squeeze any more words into this. The chapter just refused to take anymore. I still broke 2k though, so I'm happy with that. I hope this chapter met your expectations. If not, I would really appreciate some constructive criticism so I can make it better. And as always, review, fav, and follow!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_This chapter is probably going to be a little intense, so if you are sensitive, you might want to skip this. Thank you to all who reviewed, faved and followed._

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist in any way, shape, or form. All rights go to Hiromu Arakawa. I only own this story._

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

Romanovich had been gone for a few hours. Riza shifted uncomfortably in her restraints. Her hands were secured above her head, she was on her knees, and her ankles were also tied together. Her military jacket was gone, but her captors had left on her turtleneck and pants. They also left her gloves alone, probably deciding that they couldn't do any harm. She permitted herself a tiny smirk at that. The Drachmans would not live long enough to regret that decision.

A soft groan from colonel Mustang caught her attention. She immediately felt guilty for not paying more attention to his situation. He was obviously suffering from the beating that soldier had given him. "Colonel, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah Hawkeye, I'm just fine. He didn't beat me too badly. It's mostly just appearance." He winced and tried to put his hand to his side. "He did get me badly on the side though. Overall, I think they were saving me for whatever is coming next. You remember your RI&amp;T courses from the academy, right?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Yes sir. Third in the class." Being the only woman in her class, she had worked even harder to prove herself and stand out. In the end, her lighter physique had made it harder for her to resist the sleep, food, and water deprivation that came with Resistance to Interrogation and Torture courses, but she still came out on top of many of her heavier, physically stronger male classmates. Just thinking about those courses made her thirsty and hungry.

"Good. That'll be useful pretty soon I imagine." Mustang trailed off into silence and for some time they simply kneeled there, looking anywhere but each other. Mustang was rarely in a room alone this long with his lieutenant, and it was doing things to his brain. Hawkeye was determined _not _to remember the rumors she had overheard in the mess hall one day, about how she and the colonel were dating, how they were sleeping together, how they were secretly _married _**NO**. She fought down a blush and terminated that line of thought with extreme prejudice. She would not be going there. She and the colonel were childhood friends and knew each other well, but they were co-workers and nothing else. Right?

The door squeaked open then, and Romanovich walked back into the room. His face was recomposed into a mask of calm, revealing nothing. Behind him, two soldiers stood beside the door, arms behind their backs. "So colonel, have you made a decision? Are you going to tell us anything?" Mustang answered him with a glare. Romanovich blew out a breath. "I was afraid of that. So be it." Mustang steeled himself for more pain, but what came next surprised both him and Hawkeye. "Bring the woman over here." Mustang's eyes widened.

"No! Lieutenant! You bastards, don't you dare touch her! I'll burn you a-" He was cut off by a savage kick from one of the guards. He kept struggling to reach Hawkeye, straining against the chains holding him to the wall. The other guard ignored him, walking over to Hawkeye and unlocking the chains holding her to the wall. He kept the bindings on her wrists and ankle and dragged her over to Romanovich. There, she was forced to her knees again and held there by the two guards. Her mind was racing. Why were they questioning her? She didn't know anything! She was just a first lieutenant, there was almost no valuable military information in her mind. Her rank wasn't high enough to warrant the knowledge. Unless… of course. They thought they could use her to get to the colonel. But that wouldn't work, right? Of course they cared for each other but they were just co-workers. Even if they tortured her, it wouldn't affect him that badly… right?

"Make sure he's watching this. Remember colonel, you can stop everything that's about to happen by telling us what you know. Now, let's begin. Private?" Hawkeye couldn't see what was happening behind her, so she focused on the colonel's face. His eyes were wide and filled with anger, but when they locked with hers it was replaced with worry and concern. Then her vision blurred as a boot forced her face into the concrete floor. The Drachmans didn't give her time to recover though as more blows landed on her body. Fists, metal bars, rifle butts, anything they could grab hit her body. She suppressed the groan of pain that was threatening to make its way out of her mouth, determined not to give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Attempting to roll out of the way of a particularly savage blow, she was rewarded for her efforts with a steel toe to the side of her head. The jarring blow left her seeing stars and probably dislocated her jaw. She finally let a small gasp of pain out and immediately clamped down on it. However, the damage was done. A final kick rolled her body over so she could see what was happening. Two of the soldiers were grinning down at her sadistically. One actually licked a spot of blood off his hands while the other cracked his knuckles and his neck. Riza had to suppress a shiver at that. For his part, Romanovich was looking straight at Mustang. "Do you think your subordinate has had enough? Going to tell us anything, colonel?"

Riza shifted her head to take in the colonel. He was slumped on his knees with his hair falling around his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he had such a _defeated _look on his face that she wanted to shoot it off with a well-placed bullet. How had her torture affected him this much? It wasn't like he cared that deeply for her. Of course he cared about his subordinates, but he looked ready to break and spill everything. She couldn't let that happen. "Don't tell them anything colonel!" Mustang jolted and locked eyes with Riza. His gaze turned frantic and he struggled to reach her.

"Hawkeye! Are you alright? You bastards, I'm going to incinerate you once I get out of here!" Romanovich casually kicked him in the side. "Tut tut. That's not what I asked you, colonel."

"I'm fine! Don't worry about me! My life is secondary, just don't tell them anything!" Riza shouted at Mustang, seeing the pained and desperate look on his face. His face was tortured, but Riza fixed him a glare that would have cowed the bravest of men. The colonel shut his eyes and looked away, but nodded in obedience nevertheless. Romanovich had to ruin it though.

"How sad. She values your life above hers. So cruel of you to make her suffer so. It appears that you still need some more encouragement colonel. Comrades, I leave her to you." With that, he turned and walked out of the room. The two remaining men simultaneously grinned down at Riza. She gulped and braced herself for the pain.

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

The cot was not comfortable, and the floor was almost an improvement. However, the way Edward met it was not. The door suddenly flew open and another Drachman strode in. The corporal stood up and saluted while Edward jerked and crashed off his cot and to the concrete floor.

"L-lieutenant Romanovich sir! I apologize, I did not hear you!" Vikentiy stuttered in surprise. Everybody in the unit knew to fear Romanovich's wrath when caught unawares. He demanded the best from everyone and God help the soldier who slacked off around him. Beneath that calm exterior lay an expert in torture and interrogation who would make your life a living hell as easily as stepping on a bug. Anatolievich swallowed and tried not to quake in his boots.

"At ease, Vikentiy, I'm not here to make you peel potatoes. Is that the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"Yes sir. What do you want with him?" Vikentiy answered, confused. Fullmetal looked to be 15 at the most. It wasn't like he could do anything, right?

"Stand aside. I have a few questions for him." Romanovich brushed past Vikentiy, pulled up a chair and sat in front of Fullmetal's cell. He put one leg on top of the other and put his hands together in his lap.

Edward watched this new man closely. The rapid-fire exchange of Drachman had confused him, but it seemed this new soldier was higher ranking than his guard. He sat with a relaxed posture, but his eyes were keen and gazing at him as if they were peeling him apart layer by layer, dissecting him and figuring out everything about him. Edward shivered. "Fullmetal Alchemist. Edward Elric. The youngest ever to join the State Alchemist program. It is a honor to finally meet you. I wish to ask you a few questions."

"What do you want? I don't know anything, let me out of here!" Edward shouted at the man. If he was a high-ranking officer, perhaps he could be convinced to let him go with Alphonse. The man chuckled.

"Fullmetal, Fullmetal, Fullmetal. A State Alchemist has a rank equivalent to a major. You can't make me believe for a second that you don't know anything. Please, don't be like Mustang. Just tell me what you now."

"I'm telling you, I don't know - wait. Mustang? You guys captured the colonel?! Where is he? Let me see him!" If he could talk to Mustang, they could probably come up with an escape plan. No alchemy or not, two alchemists couldn't be held together if they didn't want to be. Edward's spirits improved significantly. His face turned cartoonish and he snickered evilly, causing both Drachmans to sweatdrop in the background.

Romanovich shook his head to clear it. What was that? This wasn't some manga from Xing. "I'm sorry, but that won't be possible. He is enjoying some quality time with lieutenant Hawkeye right now. In fact, let me check in on them." Edward's face reddened as he processed the statement. Quality time? Isn't that what people referred to… _that_ as? There was no way Hawkeye and the colonel were doing _that! _Then again, everybody saw the looks they gave each other when they thought nobody, including the other, was looking. Those looks made it so obvious they had significant feelings for each other. The tension between the two was almost two great to bear. Most of Central Headquarters would not have blinked had the two done each other right in the office. Heck, most of the officers encouraged it. If anyone deserved a happy ending, it was Hawkeye and Mustang.

Romanovich took a phone from the wall next to Edward's cell. "This is lieutenant Romanovich. What is the status of the interrogation? … I see. Mm hm. Ok. Ooh, that sounds bad. Keep at it, I'm going to put you on speaker for our other guest." He held the phone in front of the bars. "Have a listen Fullmetal. Maybe this will make you a little more cooperative." Curious, Edward came a little closer. What he heard horrified him.

"Come on bitch, scream already! Hey, Victor, come over here! Hand me that knife!"

"NO! You bastards, don't you dare touch her! I'll burn you all!"

"Oh, do shut up. Hold her up for me, will you. My skills are a bit rusty. I need some practice. Hold her still!"

Edward heard a sound that he had never wanted to hear in his life. A scream containing equal parts surprise and pain came from the phone. There was no mistaking it. No matter how much he tried to block it out, he couldn't deny it. That scream was Hawkeye's. In the background Mustang raged at the Drachmans, who simply laughed. A few more slashing sounds were heard over the phone, though Hawkeye managed not to scream. Romanovich hung up the phone, then turned to Edward with a light smile on his face as if he had not just heard those screams. Edward gulped, his face pale. Although he wouldn't admit it, Hawkeye's screams had _scared _him. Like a lot of the officers he knew, he secretly saw her as invincible, someone who would never break and who would always be in his life. Unlike the other officers, she was also sort of a mother figure to him, as the only woman who he knew in the military and a person who guided him through all the difficulties that military life threw at him. Hearing her in enough pain to make her scream was demoralizing, to say the least.

"W-what are you doing to her? That's torture! You can't do that!"

"The good colonel was being rather uncooperative. We decided that indirect measures would be more persuasive to him. I'm going to let you reflect on what you just heard for a little while. When I come back, I'll expect some information. Good day, Fullmetal." He stood up, nodded to Vikentiy, and left the room.

Edward stared at the spot where he had been sitting face pale. He felt sick to his stomach. Sneaking a peek at his guard's face, he saw the Drachman looked mildly disturbed as well, though not as much as Edward was feeling at the moment. Dammit, how could he convince his captors he didn't know anything? He needed to get out of here! Dammit dammit dammit _dammit_!

* * *

**A/N:** _Well damn. That had some action in it. Don't worry, we will be seeing more of Alphonse and the rest of Team Mustang. Thank you to all my new reviewers, favers, and followers. _

Omake:

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

"Alright, you have us. What do you want?" Mustang growled at the Drachmans. Romanovich smirked.

"Very well colonel. I want you…

...to kiss the lieutenant."

"WHAATT?!" This from both Hawkeye and Mustang. Hawkeye sported a massive blush on her face, and Mustang was fighting down both a killer rage and a nosebleed.

"Please? I really need this. My friends are all making fun of my OTP. I ship Royai so much! PLEASE? Do this for me, and you can go free!" Romanovich bowed down in front of Hawkeye and Mustang, puppy dog eyes in full force and hands clasped in front of him.

"Hell NO! She's my subordinate! I can't kiss her!" Mustang shot him down. Inside he really wanted to, but he wasn't sure of Hawkeye's feelings for him. If she didn't feel for him as he felt for her, then he couldn't force her to do anything with him. He couldn't do that to her.

"Um, colonel? If it'll get us out of here, I suppose we could just, you know, just a little, I guess…" Riza trailed off, blushing furiously. Her body and mind were both yelling at her to do it, but she didn't want to alienate the colonel. She really hoped he agreed. Both to get them out of here and to satisfy her own desires.

"Lieutenant? Are-are you sure?"

"Yes sir. We need to get out of here."

"...Okay then. If she agrees, then we'll do it." Romanovich beamed, and signaled his men to untie the two Amestrians. They approached each other hesitantly, both resisting their body's demands to just glomp each other. "Well? Do it already! I have my camera ready, and the we're burning time here!" His shout broke the final restraints on their behavior and they simultaneously glomped on to each other. Their lips melded together, their brains sparked and fizzled, and they knew that whatever happened, they would be together.

"YES! MY OTP IS REAL! HALLELUJAH! TAKE THAT, REDDIT!" Romanovich furiously snapped pictures, intent on uploading them to social media.

* * *

**A/N: **_:3 _


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **_Alright guys, let's do this! Chapter 6! I hope you guys like it! Thank you those who took the time to read this story. Please review this chapter! I do appreciate it when you share your thoughts. I can always use feedback to improve._

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. All rights go to Hiromu Arakawa._

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

Not having a sensation of touch, Alphonse could deal with. Being a suit of armor, Alphonse could deal with. Heck, having a death timer on his soul, Alphonse could deal with. But this was too much! He was in Hell! All the tortures that the human race came up with could not possibly equal the situation he was in now! If he was not in multiple pieces, he might have destroyed the blood seal just to escape the torture he was being put through.

Alphonse was trapped in a crate. To be specific, the upper part of his torso, which held the blood seal, was trapped in a crate. The rest of him was packed into other boxes to completely disable him. While not painful, it was certainly uncomfortable in a psychological sense, and it was boring. So boring.

"Hello? Is anyone out there? Please let me out! I won't try anything, I swear!" Nothing. Nobody responded. Alphonse guessed that either they had lost interest in him or his captors were not supposed to talk to him. He sighed and went through the periodic table in his head for the fifteenth time, just to have something to do. "Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium, Aluminum…" The elements flowed off his non-existent tongue as easily as everyday conversation. As an alchemist, Alphonse knew the elements and all their properties by heart. It was a necessity, as the wrong combination of elements (or right in some cases _coughKimbleecough_) would cause an explosion or otherwise undesirable results. As Alphonse reached Zirconium, the lock on the door clicked open. He instantly stopped and strained his ears to hear what was happening.

"Come on colonel, let's go. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, and it wouldn't do for you to be too tired."

"Fuck you! Where's Riza? I have to see her!"

"Tsk tsk, language. If you persist with your bad behavior, who knows what might happen to your dear lieutenant?"

"You sons of bitches! Don't you dare touch her! I won't tell you anything!"

"We'll see about that in the morning, colonel."

_Colonel Mustang?! He's here too? I have to get his attention somehow! _"Colonel! Help! It's me, Alphonse! I'm in the crates!"

"Alphonse?! Why are you here? What do you bastards want with him?!"

"Shut up colonel. As for you, armor boy, I had you stuffed in those crates for a reason. Be quiet. You'll get your turn soon enough. Come on colonel, your cell is waiting."

With that, another door open, closed, and locked. Alphonse's mind raced, trying to incorporate the colonel into his plans. If the colonel was also being held here, that meant that they had access to another alchemist! If he could somehow communicate with the colonel, they could surely come up with an escape plan. Then they could free Brother and lieutenant Hawkeye and get out of this place!

His mind filled with images of breaking out of the stifling crates, rescuing his brother and escaping wherever he was. But for now…

" … Niobium, Molybdenum, Technetium, Ruthenium, Rhodium, Palladium…"

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

A boot to his back sent Mustang flying into a cell. He hit the ground hard, causing pain to shoot throughout his already beaten body. He groaned as he slid up against the wall, painfully trying to get up.

"This will be your home for the time being, colonel. Until such time as you see fit to give us some answers, you will stay here until called for. Take these bandages and try to patch up the woman. It wouldn't do for her to be too injured." A roll of bandages flew in and the cell door slammed shut. Footsteps faded into the distance.

"Fucking hell, my body is done. Uughh." Mustang slowly pushed himself off the floor. He walked to the door and looked through the small barred window. There were no guards in his field of view, but the window was extremely limiting. He turned around and surveyed the room for anything he could use. The Drachmans had done a very thorough job, he would give them that much. Two bedrolls lay on the floor, all cloth and no hard substances. Bolts fastened a single small sink to the ground and the wall with a small, rusty metal faucet coming out of the wall behind it. That too was securely fastened. Wood made up the small counter, laminated to prevent splintering. A light fixture glowed from within the roof behind a steel cage. There was nothing he could pull out and use as a weapon. His hands were untied, which was a saving grace, but there was nothing to use as drawing material. The ground was too hard for that. Mustang picked up the bandages and wondered what to do with them. He had no wounds.

From a dark corner came a soft gasp of pain and Mustang whirled around in surprise. A flash of blond and mahogany eyes instantly confirmed the figure's identity. "Riza! Holy shit, I am so sorry! I didn't see you! Are you alright?!"

Riza grit her teeth against the pain. She wanted to put her hands to her wounds, but they were handcuffed behind her back. "It's… it's nothing, sir. Worry about your own wounds first. Mine are mostly superficial. I'll be fine."

"Like hell you are! All I've got are bruises! Your wounds are the problem here!" She flinched at his words and Mustang immediately regretted his word choice. "I mean, I need to take care of them first. They're pretty serious. My problems can wait." He started unrolling the bandages but stopped as he noted something odd. "Hey, why'd they tie up your hands but leave mine free?"

"Probably because they need you to take care of me sir. They don't - _gah - _they don't want us to have any more freedom than is necessary. To bad there isn't any chalk or anything in here." She smiled grimly at that. As soon as she got her hands untied, the Drachmans would regret ever hearing her name.

"Yeah, well, I still need to bandage your wounds. Here, turn around so I can get that one." Reluctantly, Riza complied and turned so her side faced the colonel. As he began to wrap the bandage around it to stop the bleeding, he asked "Is there anything else Riza? Any other injuries I should know about?" Riza's eye twitched and she blushed at the casual use of her first name and his proximity, but she listed them for him.

"Um, one broken ankle, at least three broken ribs, some more knife wounds, the start of a black eye, and a dislocated shoulder. Again, colonel, I'm fine. Just… don't worry about me. In our situation you have more combat options available to you. You should be in as good a condition as possible." Turning away, she muttered bitterly, "I'm just a liability, sir."

"What?! First of all, we're as far from on duty as possible. You should just call me Roy. Second of all, those are not superficial injuries! Finally, do not call yourself a liability! You'll never be a burden to me and never think of yourself that way!" Mustang was beyond frustrated with his lieutenant. Why did she have to be so goddamn _stubborn _and _selfless _and just - gah! Did she always have to put him above herself? She deserved better than that. He wished that, once in a while, she would think of herself first for a change.

Riza blinked. How could he say that? She couldn't do anything in her current state. How could she be anything _but _a liability? All she was now was a weakness for their captors to exploit. This conversation was going nowhere. "Sir -"

"A-hem." Riza rolled her eyes.

"_Roy_, respectfully, this discussion is irrelevant. We should be focusing on how to escape. Do you know how to pick a lock? Maybe we can get these handcuffs off."

"Let me see. Hm, nope, sorry. I failed that part of basic actually. They sent me to Ishval without it because of my Flame alchemy." He looked at her sheepishly. Her eyes were in that _are you serious _half-closed position that always sent thrills down his spine.

"Damn. Well, forget that then." She bit her lip, deep in thought. "Unless there's something to scratch out a transmutation circle with, we're out of luck. Might as well get some rest. You take the bed, I'll be fine." The concrete floor was pretty uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to let Roy - no, _the colonel_ \- know that. He was a higher priority.

"Fine Hawkeye, have it your way." The look in her eyes told him he should just go along with it. He laid down on the bedroll and retreated into a dreamless sleep, where those eyes wouldn't haunt him anymore.

* * *

Central City

HQ

1200 Hours

"Lieutenant Breda? Sir? I have the reports you wanted." A painfully young private handed a stack of papers to Breda. Breda didn't glance up from his work.

"Sir? The reports?..."

"Thank you private, that will be all. Dismissed." Havoc intervened, taking the reports. The private was obviously relieved and snapped a salute.

"Sir!" He then spun on his heels and marched off. Havoc turned and shook Breda.

"Hey. Hey. Wake up, Breda. You've got reports to read. Hey! Wake up!" Breda jerked up, hand flying to the pistol on his belt before he realized where he was.

"Oh. Hey Havoc. What time is it?"

"1200 hours. Go get some food man, I'll read these reports. You've been running yourself into the ground." Havoc was feeling just as, if not more, exhausted than Breda but the large man was showing it more. There were dark bags under his eyes, his normally neat handwriting was getting messier by the minute, and he was losing weight.

"Are you sure? I can handle those." However, just like everyone else, he didn't want to admit it. Doing so would feel too much like they were letting down the colonel. It would almost be a betrayal of trust. They had to keep working.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Don't worry about it. Bring me back something, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks." Breda tried to hide his relief as he walked down the hall to the cafeteria. Heaving a sigh, Havoc turned to the reports in front of him.

_Latest evidence… inconclusive… possible, but doubtful leads… blood analysis… shell casings… automail fragments… _"Damn. Nothing. Two goddamn weeks and still nothing. Fuuuckk. This day can't get any worse." Right on cue, the office door opened. _Unless, that is…_

"What's the latest report, lieutenant?" Colonel Eric J. "Fuck You" Herschel, in all his asshole glory. _His very presence sucks the life out of a room._

"Still no leads sir. There might be something in the latest blood analyses, but they can't say anything yet. Ballistics experts can't deduce anything from the shell casings, and forensics hasn't found squat with Fullmetal's automail fragments. In short, another dead-end sir." Havoc ground his teeth in frustration. It was bad enough that the investigation wasn't going anywhere, but colonel Douchebag wasn't making it any easier. Example?

"Yes yes, very good. Keep at it lieutenant. You're doing a fine job. I'm sure your colonel and Fullmetal will turn up soon!" He gave a hearty little laugh and left the room, plucking a sandwich from the tray Breda had on the way out.

Breda passed out the food and appraised Havoc's mood. "Let me guess. Herschel?" Havoc groaned and introduced his head to his desk.

"How'd you guess? That bastard's at it again, always so cheerful and fucking flippant about the colonel! And he didn't even mention Hawkeye or Alphonse, as if they weren't important at all! That fucking SHIT!" Havoc punched his desk in frustration. Working under Herschel was a special kind of hell. It had started when he had accidentally "lost" several important reports. It had escalated from there, with his general incompetence and laziness interfering with the investigation. For two weeks they had gotten nowhere thanks in large part to that man's interference. Havoc suspected that the man still had his job thanks only to his blatant ass-kissing.

"Hey, careful there, wouldn't want him to hear you would you?" Breda calmly took a bite of an apple. He didn't like Herschel any more than Havoc, but the man was a colonel.

"I know, I know, it's just… two weeks. Two weeks and no sign of them. It's as if they disappeared. I wonder what's happening to them."

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

They were dragging her down a corridor. That much she could figure out. Her body burned from being stabbed repeatedly, and a gunshot to the leg wasn't helping matters. Her lungs ached for oxygen from a suffocation and her screams. She felt ashamed for screaming as that had just encouraged her captors. How long had it been? There was no way to tell time down in this hell hole.

"... brutal, even for the lieu… when did he get so fucked u…"

"... ggs, never been the same since… lost his broth…" 

"... till suffocation? Electrocution? … n't know that we even had that equip…"

Everything faded out then. She wanted just to fall asleep, sleep until everything was over and she was gone from here. But she knew that if she fell asleep she might not wake up, and that would disappoint the colonel. She didn't want to disappoint the colonel, so instead she just focused on his face, using it to tie herself to consciousness.

"... cuffs on her, she's fuckin' heavy man…"

"... mmit, why can't we… "

"... eave them off, what's she gonna do?"

"... our funeral. I need a break anywa…"

The door closed. She coughed, tasting blood from where she had bit her tongue to keep herself quiet. Her body shook with pain and she curled up into a ball to stop her shivering. Two weeks with minimal food, water, warmth, and near constant torture had done a number on her body. She had stopped being hungry or thirsty a while ago. At least the colonel was still alright.

"Riza! Riza! Can you hear me? Open your eyes! Riza!"

Speaking of the colonel. She was so tired. Why was the world getting so dark?

"No! Stay with me! Dammit!"

Too hard. She couldn't stay awake. Eh. What harm could a little sleep do. At least this time they had been nice enough to leave her hands untied.

* * *

**A/N: **_Annnnnnd finished! This chapter was brought to you courtesy of three days of procrastination. I still cringe when I read it._

_On another note, please review and give feedback. I really could use help in making this story better. In particular: Warn me if I start to write any Mary Sues/Gary Stus. I don't want to go there._

_Thank you so much for staying with this story!_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_Yes! Reviews! Squee! Thank you so much! Keep them coming, along with faves and follows! _

_Tvtropes has taken over my life. Do not go there, for you will never come out._

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. All rights go to Hiromu Arakawa. I only own this story._

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

"Hey."

The Drachman did not respond.

"Hey."

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

"Hey you. Hey!"

Still nothing. Dammit, this guy was a rock.

"Hey! You! Listen! I'm talking to you!"

Ah, finally. A twitch. Edward grinned weakly, choosing not to note that Anatolievich's finger was just a little closer to the trigger.

"Hey, I'm really hungry. Can I please get something to eat? Come on guys, you aren't going to get anything out of me anyways. I don't know anything!" His stomach supported him by growling loudly. The Drachmans had barely given him enough food and water to get by.

Still no response. Edward was getting pissed. He awkwardly hopped over to his cell door, dragging his broken automail behind him. "You know, if you're going to starve me, you could at least let me see Alphonse!" This time the guard glanced over at him, then moved out of his field of vision. He heard whispers, as if the guard was talking with someone else. Then the bolts on his door were drawn back and it swung open with a loud squeak.

"Very well then. Come on. I will take you to see your brother. But only for a few minutes, and you will be monitored."

"Wait, really? Okay then, lead away. My hands are tied." Edward held his hands out in front of him for emphasis. They were secured away from each other with a rigid, reinforced slab of wood.

The guard shook his head and gestured for Edward to go first. He moved slowly at first, but a nudge with a gun barrel persuaded him to pick up his pace. The only sound in the corridor was his automail dragging on the ground.

"So… how's the weather in Drachma?" He broke the silence and tried to make the situation a little less awkward. The guard did not respond, not that Edward really expected him to. "Well that was cold. Get it? Because it's cold up in Drachma? No? Okay then…" The silence seemed heavier after the bad joke. The guard didn't seem to appreciate the dig about his native country.

Soon the pair came to a heavy metal door. The guard motioned for Edward to wait and, without taking his eyes off of him, unlocked and pulled the door open. He then pushed Edward into the room and went in after him, the door locking behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden dimness, he frowned. "Wait… where's Alphonse? You said I would be seeing him. Where is he?"

"Right in front of you. Say hello to your brother, armor boy."

"Brother? Is that you? Hey! What's going on? How's the colonel?" A cheerful, slightly strained voice sounded out from the crates that Edward could now see in front of him.

"Alphonse?! Is that you?! They've been keeping you in pieces? What the hell! What kind of sick bastards would do that?!" He whirled around and advanced on Anatolievich. "That's torture! He's just a kid!"

"I protest that statement!"

Anatolievich held his hands up in a don't blame me pose. "Wasn't my idea to put him in the crates. He was shouting and struggling too much, so the lieutenant ordered him disassembled and muffled with some pillows we had on hand. It was his idea. I was just following orders." Personally, he hadn't entirely agreed with those orders but he had seen the logic behind him. He had no wish to be caught by the Amestrians and Alphonse's struggles would have given them away to hundreds of armed and angry soldiers in Central Headquarters. So many bullets would have been in him that he would have been more air than flesh. Unlike some of the members of his black ops team, his bucket list wasn't fulfilled. "Anyways, you're here to talk. So talk, and don't try anything funny."

Edward growled, but stood down and turned to where he supposed Alphonse was. "Alphonse, are you alright? How are you? Is everything okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'm okay brother! They've taken me out once in a while to let me get a change in scenery. It's helped a lot! They haven't let me do anything else though and asked me a bunch of questions. I think they figured out that I don't know anything."

Questions? Like the ones I'm being asked? Were they using sensory deprivation as a form of torture? "What kinds of questions?"

"Stuff like 'How many troops are there in Central?' 'What are the exact capabilities of the State Alchemists?' 'What kinds of equipment does the military have?' You know, military things."

Edward frowned. He turned to Anatolievich with a questioning look. "Seriously? You guys thought he knew stuff about military operations? He's only sixteen and not a State Alchemist, why would he know anything? You guys really that dumb?"

Anatolievich shrugged. "Protocol. He hangs out with the military, never know what he might have picked up. Now, your time is up. Come on." He shouldered his submachine gun and gestured for Edward to walk in front of him. Broken automail or not, he was not about to let the Fullmetal Alchemist walk around without escort.

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

"Come on Riza, stay with me. Come on, open your eyes. I know you're in there. Wake up, please! Wake up!" Mustang hugged Riza in his arms, trying to squeeze some life back into her. His hands were covered in blood from her wounds, her muscles were still spasming from electrocution, and her breathing was too weak! This was all his fault, he should have told them what they wanted to know, he should have cooperated, he should have saved her, he should have been there for her!

"Gah… r… Roy is… tha… that you?" Riza's eyes were open, but they were glazed over and unfocused. They seemed to be almost looking through him rather than seeing him, fixated on something only she could see.

"Riza! Come on, say something! Stay with me, what do you need?"

"Roy? I… asked you… not to wake me up this… early… y-you know school doesn't… start for another h-hour… you know I don't do… mornings…"

Realization hit Mustang. She wasn't in the here and now. This was far earlier, sometime back when he was still learning at Master Hawkeye's house. "Mmm… why are you in… my room? You know… f-father doesn't want… us to get too close, not that… I'm complaining…"

Mustang quirked a smile at the memories. Back when Riza and he lived in Master Hawkeye's house, she was actually rather upbeat and open. Despite her hard childhood, she had managed to make the gloomy household seem bright and happy. Too bad it couldn't last. "Hey, Riza, we're not at your house, remember? Come on, wake up, work with me here." He gently shook her to get her attention. Her eyes blinked and focused in on his face and she gasped as the world came back to her.

"Colonel? What… what happened? I-gah! Agh!" She cried out in pain as the reality of her wounds hit with a vengeance.

"Shit! Riza! Don't move, just stay still! Let me take care of your injuries, don't try to do anything!" Mustang was panicking on the inside. How was he supposed to take care of her like this? He didn't have any medical supplies, and the cloth on hand wasn't enough.

"It's okay sir, it's just… a scratch. Really, they didn't do… too much. It's worse than it looks." Actually, most of the bleeding had already stopped. The bullet hole in her leg was starting to concern her though, as was the increased detachment with which she was seeing her wounds. "Just… wrap up the bullet wound and I think I'll be good. The bleeding pretty much stopped already."

Now that she mentioned it, most of the blood was already dried and crusted. The various stab and blunt force injuries had stopped bleeding a while ago. The only fresh blood was coming from the wound in her leg. He let out a breath, he could deal with simple bullet wounds. Some cloth ripped off his pants, while not ideal, would do. He set about bandaging her wounds, trying not to hear her gasps of pain. "Sorry about this. I should have told them something just to satisfy them, you shouldn't have to go through this." He shuddered as he felt a death glare pierce through him.

"Don't you dare tell them anything sir! Anything you tell them could be used against Amestris and the safety of the country is more important than anything. No matter what happens, you are not to tell them anything!" He didn't respond, and she reached out to get his attention. "Do you understand me, colonel?!" Wait. Reached out?

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Now please, just rest. You need to recover from your injuries!" Riza wasn't paying attention though. Wait a second. My hands are untied. Well, shit. I can finally do something! Better to wait until the colonel is out of sight though. If I use my alchemy in front of him, well…

Better not think about that. This is the only job I have. Father to his men that he was, Mustang still knew a threat to his career when he saw one and, like it or not, he would have to deal with it. Riza would cross that bridge when she came to it. For the moment, she simply sat back, let Roy work on her and plotted her escape. With the colonel, of course.

* * *

Central City

HQ

0100 Hours

The lights were off in Central Headquarters. Only the night guard was there, burning the midnight oil and regretting the career mistakes that had put them there. One particular private had accidentally spilled his coffee on a colonel and was now standing guard in front of Investigations. He re-shouldered his rifle, trying not to doze off and piss off his superiors even more. The man almost succeeded too, when a door suddenly opened down the hall. The private jumped, bringing his rifle to bear and aiming down the sights just like the manual said to do to do. "Who's there?" There was no answer. Nobody came through the door, no spray of bullets cut him down, no grenade flew through and blew him away. The private breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that his fears had not come to pass. He turned around and checked behind his back, just to make sure nobody was coming behind him. It only took a moment.

That moment was all that the figure needed. It crept up to the private while he was still looking the other way and wrapped its arms around the private's arms, mouth and nose. The soldier's eyes widened and he tried to whirl around but he couldn't. With the arm cutting off his nose and mouth, his lungs were burning. Slowly, his struggles and muffled grunts died away as he slipped into unconsciousness. The lock on the door gave way to a lock pick and the figure slowly crept into investigations. "Crown to Castle. I'm in."

The door closed behind the figure. It took out a flashlight and moved quickly. It moved through the room with the air of one very familiar with a certain location. Arriving at the "Ongoing Investigations" section, it scanned down the filing cabinets to "M". Then, moving more slowly, it panned the flashlight over the M section. "Mordred - Mustang. There you are."

A lock clicked open and the cabinet rolled out. A manila folder labeled "Mustang Disappearance" was carefully extracted from the mass of otherwise indistinguishable manila folders. "Time for you to mysteriously disappear." The folder vanished into the figure's overcoat. The next day, investigations would arrive to find that the newly gathered evidence on its investigation into Mustang's disappearance had itself disappeared, deemed an administrative blunder, forcing them to regather it. Coincidentally, the private on guard outside the department would be found sleeping in a nearby closet. He would soon find himself stationed in an insignificant outpost near the Eastern Desert, far from any important events or career advancement opportunities.

Back in Central HQ, the figure silently closed the door of the broom closet. He then stood up, straightened his overcoat, and walked back down the hall, manila folder safely under his clothes. "Castle, this is Crown. You're clear to proceed."

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

The door to the cell opened and two guards walked in. Mustang, still holding Riza, shot his head up in surprise. It had barely been two hours! It couldn't be time for more!

"Alright colonel, up and at 'em. The lieutenant wants to see you again."

Riza stirred in his arms, mumbling something incoherent. He smiled a bit at how beautiful and peaceful her face looked while in his arms. Funny how you don't notice how beautiful things are until you lose them. He glared at the soldiers. "Come on! It's been two hours! You've got to give us more time than this!"

"Too bad! Let's grab him boys."

The guards grabbed him roughly and pulled him away from Riza. She fell to the floor with a gasp near the sink and her eyes flew open. They cycled through shock, alarm, fear, and finally settled on desperation. One hand reached out for him as they dragged him towards the doorway as the other cradled the wounds in her side. "Colonel!"

He could not bear to look into her eyes, see the desperation and fear in them. They did not deserve to look like that, should not look like that. Instead, he closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and turned his face away, bracing himself for whatever was to come.

* * *

Dammit, again?! It had only been two hours! They weren't ready for this! Roy aside, her body couldn't take anymore. Anymore and she might just break. Add to that Roy and she had to do something! Anything! She couldn't move and in agony from her various injuries with no weapons anywhere near her. Well, actually, not entirely true. She did have one.

Her gloves were heavy on her hands. Her body was screaming at her to use them, but her mind stayed reluctant and uncertain. Could she really risk everything, risk being able to help Roy, by using alchemy?

In a rare moment of vehemence, her brain decided.

Fuck it.

* * *

It came in the form of surprised shouts from the guards, and a glow that lit up the insides of his eyelids. He felt himself being dropped and the soldiers bringing their weapons to bear. Before they could fire though, two shots rang out from ahead of him. Two bodies collapsed to the floor behind him, followed by two more shots and two more bodies out in the hallway. He snapped open his eyes and whipped his head around to the source of the shots. There lay Riza, half of the sink gone behind her, gritting her teeth in pain as water dripped over her, pistol in her hand and the remnants of alchemical energy still sparkling around her gloves.

* * *

**A/N: **_Must… not… watch… SAO! YOU WILL NOT TAKE MEEE!_

_*Willpower crumbles*_

_*3 hours later*_

_Oh Kirito, you silly thing. Maybe I should actually write my story now. Meh._

_Anyways, I dislike this chapter with a passion. Not one of my better ones. Any review with advice and constructive criticism are welcome! Anything that helps make this story better is ok in my book. (Not that you should stop the praise. Keep that coming. :))_

_As always, hoped you did enjoy this chapter anyways! Thank you for taking the time to read and Review, Fave and Follow! Until the next chapter!_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_Yes! *Fistpumps* Reviews! Thank you so much! Special thanks and a shoutout goes to __InconsciousSin__, for being such an awesome regular reviewer. She has pretty good stories, so check out her profile!_

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. All rights go to Hiromu Arakawa. I only own this story. _

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

Two spent shells fell to the floor in front of Riza. The pistol fell out of her hand and she collapsed to the floor, wounds screaming at her.

"You… Riza… what… what the fuck was that?" Roy worked his jaw, trying to comprehend what he had just seen. Alchemy?! But Riza didn't know how to perform alchemy!

"Close your mouth and get moving, colonel! Get the equipment off of those two also! There'll be more - _urgh - _coming soon." Her voice was a little hoarse, courtesy of the stranglehold the Drachmans had used on her during one of their "questioning" sessions with Roy. He snapped his jaw shut and nodded, getting to work while casting discreet glances back at her and her hands. Wincing, she pushed herself off of the floor. Roy was busy taking the grenades, knives and guns off of the guards. Supporting herself with the wall, Riza picked the pistol up off the ground and inspected it. The somewhat improvised transmutation had resulted in a standard-issue pistol, and her hands went on autopilot, disassembling and checking the gun over like they had a thousand times before. There were no major imperfections or damages present on the gun parts, a fact that surprised her. The transmutation had used pretty low grade metal.

Riza reassembled the pistol and safed it, sliding it into the waist of her pants. "I'll expect a full explanation later. Riza, take these. We'll need heavier weapons if we're going to make it out of here." Roy handed Riza a machine-pistol which she held in one hand. The other hand was occupied holding closed a reopened wound in her side. Roy noticed the blood leaking out around her hand. "Shit! Are you alright?! What happened?"

Riza waved him away. "I just reopened my wound. It's not bleeding too badly, I'll live." She examined the machine pistol, noting its weight and balance. "Looks like a M11C7. I'll have to fire it one-handed, so I won't be much use except for suppressing fire. 7mm. Holds 20 rounds." The familiar routine of checking over a weapon distracted her from the bleeding and refocused her attention. Roy was holding another submachine gun. He had the use of both hands, so he could actually aim and control the thing. Riza, on the other hand, had no way to control her gun with just one hand given her injuries.

Roy nodded grimly, knowing that Riza could deal with her own problems. "We'll have to pick up the Elrics on the way out. You're going to have to explain your newfound abilities to them too." Stopping for a moment, Riza looked up in surprise.

"The Elrics are here too? They don't know anything do they?"

"No. I made sure never to mention military secrets around them. I… I wanted to keep them as free of the military as possible." Roy looked away, a little embarrassed but still proud of his actions. Riza smiled a little, a sad, understanding smile.

"I completely understand sir. And anyways - get down!" Acting on instincts honed in Ishval, Roy immediately hit the floor. A weapon chattered and a spray of 7mm whistled over his head followed by a strangled gasp and multiple Drachman curses. "Hostile down. The others are behind cover." Another burst sailed over him, raining bits of concrete and dust on him. Riza was trying to suppress the other Drachmans, keep them from firing. "Get off the ground and strt shooting colonel, if you please!" She was in combat mode now, all business. Grunting, Roy rolled onto his knee and brought the smg to his shoulder. Adrenaline was coursing through his bloodstream now, suppressing the pain from his bruises and cuts. His angle enabled him to fire a burst into the chest of another Drachman. The last one poked his weapon around the corner and sprayed bullets into the room, forcing Roy and Riza to run for cover. The firing stopped and a grenade bounced into the room. "Grenade!"

Riza dove for the grenade and flung it out of the room. In the process a three-round burst winged her shoulder. She got her revenge though as a muffled curse sounded from behind the doorframe and the grenade went off.

Riza and Roy waited, guns aimed at the door. When no more targets presented themselves, Roy peeked around the corner. One of the Drachmans, the one initially shot by Riza, lay in a pool of his own blood. Her initial burst had stitched a trail of bullet holes from the middle of his chest to his throat, courtesy of the recoil on the machine pistol. The second Drachman was facedown on the floor. Roy's shots had destroyed his heart. The third was collapsed against the wall, thrown there by the closeness of the grenade blast. His body was riddled with shrapnel, eyes wide open and a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. He was dead.

"Okay. Damn. We should - _gah! - _get going. My wounds are going to slow us down so we need as large of a head start as we can get. The others will have heard those shots and we don't have the equipment. Do you - _urgh - _know where the Elrics are?" Riza gritted her teeth against her injuries. She needed to stop performing all these acrobatics, they were reopening lacerations and bullet holes she didn't even know she had. Her bruised throat wasn't helping matters.

"Oh- uh, yeah, I got dragged past Alphonse. I think I remember the way there. You wouldn't happen to be able to, uh, reassemble him, would you? I mean, now that you can do… you know…" Roy trailed off, still a little uncomfortable and weirded out at the concept of Riza doing alchemy.

"You don't have to dance around it, yes I can perform alchemy, and yes you all will get an explanation at the appropriate place and time, sir." Riza hit the release switch on her weapon, loading another magazine with a blood-stained hand. "Now, shall we?"

Roy smirked. "By all means. You first, milady"

* * *

Unknown

Unknown

Unknown

It was the gunfire that woke him. Edward had been enjoying a nice sleep on his cot, trying to forget his hunger and general aching. The soldiers had beaten him up, trying to make him talk. He had some nice bruises and cuts to show for it.

The two soldiers outside his cell looked up in alarm, bringing their weapons to bear on the door. There was a single gunshot, and then the door swung open. No fire came through though, so one of them stood up and went to look. He made it three steps before a grenade sailed through the doorway. He had time to shout once before it went off, killing him instantly. The other soldier was shielded from the blast by his comrade's body and immediately opened fire on the doorway.

On the other side Roy swung back into cover to avoid the storm of bullets now whistling by him. "Fuck, didn't get the other one."

"I told you to give the grenade to me, I actually know how to use them." Riza admonished Roy, but not as severely as she usually would have. She stuck her hand around the corner and sent a few rounds into the room.

"That was our last frag." The soldier inside the room stopped firing to reload, but before Riza could aim he started firing again.

"Damn, this guy is good. I wish I had my ignition gloves or at least some chalk!" The sound of the firing got slightly louder. "Shit, I think he's advancing on us. Ideas, Riza?"

She found she rather liked the sound of her name when the colonel said it. "Nothing to draw with, except if you feel like shooting out a transmutation circle. I can't get a proper sight picture on him, he's firing too much." To emphasize her point, a few bullets blasted away chunks of door right above her head. She shook them off impatiently. "We're pretty much out of options, sir. There's no way to flank him and he has good cover." The firing stopped.

"Hey! You out there! Come out with your hands up, and your lives will be spared!"

"Does he really think that'll work? What is this, a movie?" Roy grumbled. Riza took her hand off her wound to reload her gun. She changed out the magazine, wishing that she had something to draw with. "Can't Fullmetal help us?"

"I doubt it sir." Riza coughed up a little blood into her hand. Naturally, Roy noticed.

"Are you alright?!"

"Don't worry. My lungs and throat are kind of messed up, but it's nothing a hospital can't take care of." Actually, it was getting harder to breath by the moment, but Roy didn't need to know about that.

"Are you sure you can't do anything? You're better at this than me." He poked his gun around the corner and fired a few times as a reply.

"No, I'm just as helpless without some time or drawing materials." She was about to shake away the blood when a sudden thought struck her. "Actually, I don't think we're totally helpless."

* * *

Edward was up against the metal door of his cell. The sounds of the firefight had died down outside, but he wasn't taking any chances. He'd fought Homunculi and rebels, rogue alchemists and Truth himself. A bullet be an undignified way to go.

From what he could gather, it was probably the bastard and lieutenant Hawkeye. They must have overpowered their guards, although how they did it was beyond him. From what he had heard from that telephone conversation and the screams that sometimes penetrated the concrete walls they must have been hurt pretty bad.

"What the - _О, черт меня*! ARRGH!"_

Several loud crashes sounded outside Edward's cell. He slowly peaked out of the small window in his door. He was met with a strange sight. A column of earth and concrete partially filled the long corridor/room. The soldier was gone, but based on the groans and Drachman curses he could still hear the man was probably on the other side of it.

"Whoo! Way to go, bastard! Guess you aren't totally useless without your gloves after all!"

"I hear a voice, but I can't see where it's coming from. If I squint I can almost make out something…"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MICROSCOPIC PIPSQUEAK?!"

"I wonder if he's already escaped through the crack under his door, I can't seem to find him."

"AARRRGGHHHH!" Edward would have torn off the door with his rage-fueled strength, but all he could do was beat uselessly at the door with his bound arms. Suddenly the door crumpled and dissolved in the light of an alchemical reaction. In front of him stood Mustang with blood covering his hands. Edward blinked. Mustang looked pretty bad. His face was covered with bruises, his clothes were torn and he had cuts everywhere Edward could see. He would have bet Mustang had a broken rib or two also. But that wasn't what he was focused on. "Wait, the fuck bastard? Where did _you_ go putting your hands?"

"Oh, this? It's Riza's." Upon seeing the look on Ed's face he hastily added, "I-I was using it for transmutations! It was her idea!"

"Don't worry about me, Edward." He looked at lieutenant Hawkeye, just arrived, then did a double take. She looked _terrible_. Laying aside the bruises, lacerations, black eye and obviously broken ankle, her clothes were torn and covered with blood. She looked like she was holding her insides inside with the amount of blood covering her hand. Blood also flecked her lips and her breathing sounded harsh and strained. Riza was supporting herself with the wall and she walked with a heavy limp. Those were just the things he could see at a first glance. He would have given good odds on her having quite a few internal injuries and broken bones.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"It's not as bad as it looks…" Hawkeye looked down at her feet, abashed at the attention. Her voice and general demeanor seemed melancholy for some reason. Edward looked at her skeptically.

"If you say so. Anyways, would you mind -"

"Hey, _ублюдки**_, I'm still here you know! If you're going to kill me, then… uh… don't leave… um… sorry…" The pinned Drachman soldier trailed off as the trio turned to stare at him. He cringed. "Please make it quick."

Roy frowned, then looked over at Edward. "Say, Fullmetal, how about we let Riza deal with this? Seems appropriate, doesn't it?"

Edward glanced over her sorry state once more. He nodded "Yeah, I'll say. We'll leave this to you, Lieutenant. Whatever you do, I'm sure you've got a good reason." He made sure the soldier's gun was well out of his reach and motioned for Mustang to come with him. The two of them left the room to take care of their injuries, leaving Riza alone with the soldier.

* * *

Drachman Safehouse

Underneath Abandoned Industrial District

Central City

1600 Hours

Corporal Vikentiy Anatolievich, Eta Team, Drachman Black Ops, veteran of three failed assaults on Briggs, recipient of the Order of Yakovich, was scared. The bloody, beaten, half-dead woman in front of him staring at him with cold, dead eyes scared him more than the Briggs Bears ever did. At least he had a gun when facing those soldiers. This time his gun was on the floor, ten feet away. The person in front of him had been tortured to a bloody pulp by his fellow soldiers, not even to make her talk, but to make someone she obviously cared about suffer. It was obvious Flame and his lieutenant had a deeper relationship than just superior-subordinate. Anybody who spent more than 15 seconds within 25 meters of them could tell, conversations denying it be damned. But anyways…

"Did you hurt the Elrics?"

What? What kind of question was that? "No." Just keep it simple, don't let her see your scared as shit.

"Did you hurt the colonel?"

"No." Oh God, oh sweet merciful God, please don't let her ask, please don't let her ask, please don't let her ask. She frowned, as if deep in thought. A desperate, hysterical thought crossed his mind. The blood loss is affecting her brain already, maybe she'll bleed out before she can kill me!

"Do you have a family?" Huh? What kind of question was that?

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"22"

* * *

Her eyes widened, and she was plunged into the past.

_She was standing in a dark room. The desert air blew around her, making her tattoo tingle. In front of her was a young Ishvalan man, shielding his family from her weapons. "Please, stop! Don't kill them! They're all the family I have!" He was helpless in front of her. "Please, my daughter's only 6! My wife's only 20! I'm only 22! Please, spare us!" It would be so easy just to turn around and leave. But her duty… _

_2 hours, one grenade, and six bullets later, she returned to camp. She shook off the soldiers who tried to ask her what happened, was she alright, because she wasn't alright. She sat down on her cot, not even bothering to take off her cloak. She stared at the ground, remembering their screams and groans as she finished them off. Could she even think about sleeping, knowing what she had done in the name "duty"? _

_She stared down the barrel of her pistol, thinking. She had shot it six times today, what was once more? It was probably the only way she would sleep. "Hey, Hawkeye! We need to go!" She looked up. Duty called. Sleeping could wait._

"Dammit." She cursed softly. Riza stepped up to the trapped soldier and drew her transmuted pistol. His eyes widened then squeezed tightly shut. She lifted her pistol, sighted it in, and then…

… safed it, spun it around, and pistol whipped him in the temple. He gasped once, then slumped, out cold. With a glance in the direction of Roy and Edward, Riza whispered a few last words. "Keep your family close. They're all you really have." She coughed up a little blood at the end of that sentence. With that, she holstered the weapon and limped after Roy and Edward.

* * *

Central City

HQ

1700 Hours

"Hey Havoc, we need you and your team off this case for a little bit. There's a small criminal group operating out of an abandoned warehouse. We have solid intel, but we need another gun. Sorry about this."

"Fuck. Fuck! Come on, I need to work on this! I can't let my comrades down!"

"Sorry, colonel's orders. Not my fault, man."

"God. Fine, give me 10 minutes to gather everyone. Are you sure you need us?"

"Not really, but those are your orders. I'm confused too, but the colonel's tired and acting a little… irrational. In my opinion, it would be best just to do what he says."

"_Sigh… _I guess you're right. Just give us 10 minutes."

"Take all the time I need. I understand, buddy. And also? For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. We haven't failed yet."

* * *

**A/N: **_I stayed up late working on this for you guys! It's summer vacation now, so I can afford it. I hope you like this! There will be action next time, more than the lame firefights this chapter. _

_Yeah, this chapter's action scenes are pretty lame. This chapter is pretty lame. If you could give me some advice, that would be much appreciated! Any help is welcome! _

_And as always, Review, Fave, and Follow! See you next time._

_*__О, черт меня! - _Loosely translated as: "Oh, fuck me!"

**_ублюдки - _Loosely translated as: "Bastards"

All translations courtesy of Google Translate


	9. Chapter 9

**A/;N: **_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, faved, and followed! It really gives me the strength and courage to keep on writing, knowing there are people out there who enjoy reading my work._

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. All rights go to Hiromu Arakawa._

* * *

Drachman Safehouse

Abandoned Industrial District

Central City

1745 Hours

"Thank you for your cooperation. Now, kindly _die._"

The bullet easily pierced the skull of the Drachman soldier, impaled to the wall with several alchemically generated spears. Edward grimaced and turned away. "Did you have to do that?"

Roy replied simply, "I needed to stretch." Edward frowned. Then his eyes hardened, he nodded and gestured to Mustang to wait for a second.

"Hey, lieutenant, you alright? If you need to rest, just tell us." Riza had sunk partway to the floor, breathing heavily. She felt nauseous from internal bleeding and she was finding it hard to focus. From what she remembered of her training, that was a bad sign. Every step was a struggle against the stabbing pain. But she could see that Roy and Edward had enough problems and injuries of their own to deal with without her burdening them with hers.

"I'm fine. Let's keep moving." She lifted her gun and limped on. The two men looked at each other and shrugged. They were used to Riza's stubbornness. At this point, they would be more concerned about her if she didn't insist on going on. "Colonel, where's Alphonse? We need to get him before we leave this place."

"Um, I think he's being kept just down the hall, behind that door. Fullmetal, can you reassemble him?"

Edward shook his head glumly. "I don't have the necessary materials. If I simply use metal from the rest of his armor, it'll thin and weaken the entire structure. As it is he's overdue for a structural overhaul. Any thinner and he might just fall apart." Alphonse would be incapable of doing anything for the time being.

The three walked in silence, eyes searching for any movement that might reveal an only noises were their footsteps and Riza's pained breathing. Soon they came to the door that Alphonse was supposedly behind. "Dammit, locked from the inside. I don't think we we're going to be able to shoot off the lock this time, Riza."

"I can't believe that even worked the first time." She knelt to inspect the lock, secretly grateful for a break. "We have to pick it or blow through it." Edward frowned.

"I don't think we have the right stuff to do it. Those grenades don't have the oomph." He looked at his recently freed hands. "Unfortunately, neither sparks over there or me know Kimblee's explosion formula and - what are you doing, lieutenant?" Grimacing, Riza spread open one of her wounds with a thumb and pointer finger. Blood flowed steadily out of the reopened wound. She dipped a finger into the red liquid, thought for a moment, then drew a circle on the door. A sun and a moon were drawn within the circle, followed by several more symbols. The outside was outlined with ancient alchemical writing and a final triangle was added to the circle.

"Stand back." Roy backed away, smirking at the flabbergasted expression on Fullmetal's face. Riza closed her eyes in concentration, then clapped her hands together and slammed them against the circle in one fluid motion. She then jumped out of the way of the reaction with a gasp of pain as the movement strained her injuries. Within the confines of the circle, oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon were greedily pulled out of the atmosphere. They were shaped and bonded by the energies pouring out of the circle, and the resulting chemical detonated with the addition of a bit more alchemical energy. The reaction was shaped and guided by the circle's energies in the microseconds before the circle itself was obliterated. Kimblee's transmutation circle, slightly modified by Riza Hawkeye, blew the door inwards in a highly directional explosion.

Inside, three soldiers were standing around smoking, having been tasked with the thankless job of guarding Alphonse Elric. Each of them had pissed off lieutenant Romanovich in their own way. The first one accidentally dropped a crate which had happened to contain Romanovich's favorite vodka. The second one made a perverted comment about a cute girl in a picture. The girl was the lieutenant's wife. The last one had failed to keep his weapon clean, resulting in a misfire on the range that triggered a series of events that all involved had agreed to never speak of. All three had simply done or said the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. All three were good men, just looking to serve their country. All three hadn't wanted this assignment. All that didn't matter to the thick steel door that slammed into them, instantly killing one. One other ended up on the floor unconscious with a cracked skull and several broken bones. Only one managed to pull through in a vaguely okay condition. He stayed alive long enough to pull out his pistol and fire three shots through the doorway, screaming in pain from multiple fractures. His misery ended with a quick bullet to the head.

"That was pretty brutal Riza. Didn't think you actually paid that much attention to Kimblee." Mustang said casually as he walked into the room. He rolled one of the bodies over with his boot. It groaned in pain. "You missed one." A gunshot rang out. Riza staggered into the room, arm around Edward's shoulder. Her breathing rasped and blood was streaked at the edge of her mouth. He said something quietly to her and she shook her head. He helped her sit down against the wall where she held her side and coughed harshly.

Roy knelt beside her. "Riza, are you okay? You need to rest, let's stop for a while." Riza nodded, breathing heavily. "You don't have much strength, you shouldn't be going around doing alchemy."

Edward spoke up. "That reminds me. Bastard, you and I need to talk." He grabbed Mustang and pulled him over to the corner. "Since when could lieutenant Hawkeye use _alchemy?!_" he quietly hissed into Mustang's ear.

"I'm as confused as you are. It's helping us get out of here though, so just accept it. She did promise us an explanation when we first broke out." Mustang whispered back, glancing over to make sure they didn't disturb Riza. She was still slumped against the wall trying to catch her breath. "I think it's best if we wait until we get out of here. Besides, we need to help Alphonse right now." Edward nodded and began to open the crates, then grinned as another thought hit him.

"Oh, and by the way bastard. Since when were you two on a first name basis?"

* * *

Central City

Old Factory

1812 Hours

"Why are we here again?" The door of the official car opened and Mustang's team, minus Hawkeye and Mustang, stepped out. Breda squinted against the sudden sunlight, shielding his eyes with his free hand. Havoc shook his head.

"We're supposed to meet a 'Major McCormick', but I don't see anyone anywhere. Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yeah, I was looking at the map half the time, this is the right place." Breda looked around, frowning. "The place looks pretty deserted. Are we early?" He glanced over at Fuery next to a portable radio set. "Anything on the airwaves?"

"Nothing. Just the usual communications. They're either maintaining radio silence, using some frequency I haven't heard of, or just not here at all." He turned the tuning dial on the radio, shaking his head once in a while. Falman simply shook his head. Even his observational skills turned up nothing.

"Well then, I guess we did come to the wrong place. Everyone back in the car and le-" Havoc was cut off when a hand materialized out of seemingly nowhere and grabbed his shoulder. "Holy fuck!" He spun around and leveled his shotgun only to be met with the angry face of another Amestrian.

"Shut the fuck up! Do you want us to be seen?! What are you doing, standing around like this? Come with me, quickly! And put out that goddamn cancer stick! Fuckin' newbies…" The soldier beckoned them to follow him, making his way back into the industrial rubble. Havoc stared after him, confused and shaken at the way he snuck up on him.

"I guess we better follow him. Told you we were in the right place." Breda shouldered his rifle, threading his way after the soldier. Falman and Fuery nodded as well and marched after him. Havoc stood there for a moment, then shrugged, dropped his cigarette on the ground, ground it out and walked after them.

* * *

After several minutes of walking through an industrial wasteland, Havoc found the rest of his comrades.

"To summarize, you will join up with delta squad and gamma squad and circle around while alpha and beta squads storm the front. Epsilon and Zeta squads will stay back and provide cover and reserve. Stay in cover and watch each other's asses, these blueprints are 15 years old and our recons only gave us a vague idea of what's changed inside. Fight smart, and with luck we'll all be home within a week. All right people, get tactical! Move like you've got a purpose, this briefing is over!"

"Yessir!" Havoc pressed himself against a large block of concrete as a group of soldiers wearing grey camouflage uniforms jogged past him.

"Yo Breda, what's going on?" Havoc walked up to the fold-out table, scattered with papers and coffee stains. Breda looked up from a paper in his hand and raised his other in greeting

"Hey, welcome to the temporary command post of 1st Platoon, 2nd Company, 24th Internal Operations Battalion. This is the major McCormick we were looking for. You just missed his briefing." The major finished giving orders to another one of his subordinates and turned to Havoc.

"Glad you could join us lieutenant. I presume you're the reinforcements I sent for?"

Havoc drew himself up to attention and saluted. "Yessir. So you're major McCormick."

The major's eyes appraised Havoc, piercing him and judging his worth. "Yes. Your friends have already gotten the briefing, so they'll fill you in. Just to give you some basic background, one of our civilian contacts tipped us off to possible criminal activity in this building. We've had it under surveillance for the past few weeks, and we're about ready to move in." Something changed in his eyes, and he nodded. "Find sergeant Corvik. He's somewhere down the line. Pick up some camouflage cloaks from him so a sniper doesn't blow off your head."

Havoc was surprised. "The criminals have sniper rifles?"

"No. We do. Dismissed, lieutenant. Good luck." The major turned back to the blueprints, making marks here and there with a pencil. Havoc knew a dismissal when he saw one, saluted and walked away.

Breda waited for him further down the line. "Yeah, that thing about snipers got me too. I didn't believe it but he pointed one of them out for me. Here, let me show you. Up there, you see? You can just see the top of his head." It was true. On top of a concrete building Havoc could just make out the top of a head. As he watched, the shape moved, turning towards him. He saw the glint of light off of a scope as the figure kept turning.

"Can't those guys point at the enemy?"

Breda chuckled darkly. "Don't you know Havoc? These people are Internal Operations. _Everyone's _the enemy. Hell, they make them watch each other. You saw the guy the major was talking to? The two of them probably have orders to shoot each other in the back the moment they even smell of turning traitor. I'll give you good odds that we have at least 5 crosshairs centered on our heads right now." He casually flipped off the air. "They remind me of Hawkeye. Not that she'd shoot us or anything but snipers, you know." Havoc looked down at the ground.

"Yeah…. I wonder how she and the colonel are doing right now…"

* * *

Drachman Safehouse

Abandoned Industrial District

Central City

1819 Hours

"Hey, thanks for getting me out of there! I was going insane!" Alphonse's voice rang out, cheerful despite his imprisonment. The nails of the crate rattled as the cart rolled down the corridor.

"Don't worry Alphonse. Glad we could help. Just - *_cough wheeze* _\- just keep it down a little while we're moving. We don't want anybody to - *_hack cough* _\- anybody to hear us." Riza hobbled alongside the cart, watching for enemies and shakily holding her gun. Roy and Edward took turns pushing the cart and walking/limping ahead of it, also on guard.

"So, what happened? Sounds like you guys got pretty injured. Are you okay?"

Roy answered this time. "We're alright. Based on that last guy we questioned, the exit's just up ahead. We'll give you a full run-down later, but we're all still able to move." Looking to the side, he whispered to himself "Even if she shouldn't be able to."

Edward carefully maneuvered the cart through the doorway, coming to a thick steel door. "Shit, I'm going to need to get through this. Give me some time." He knelt down, shifted his weight to his non-broken leg and got to work, sketching out a complex circle. Riza and Roy got down behind a few heavy crates and aimed at the doorway they had just come through.

The minutes passed by in tense silence. Something had to happen. Their escape couldn't possibly be this easy! And it wasn't.

Two grenades flew into the room and detonated, catching Roy in the bicep. He went down with a snarl, spun onto the ground by the shrapnel. Riza ducked down in time, the shrapnel bouncing off her cover. She came up firing, spraying rounds towards the doorway. Bullets flew back in response, forcing her back down. Roy threw a grenade back and fired around the corner of his cover. With a yell, Edward went down, shot in the buttocks. "Fuck! Really, in the ass?! Ah, shit, I can't work like this!" He slapped his hands together and sent a fist of earth and concrete down the hall. It clipped a Drachman soldier who had dared to poke his head around the corner, sending him flying and knocking him out.

"Big brother! Are you alright?!"

"Yeah, nothing bad, it just hurts like a bitch!"

Riza clapped her hands and alchemized herself another pistol. Drawing the one still tucked into her pants, she went guns akimbo firing with no concern for accuracy. Roy tossed a pair of grenades and followed it up with a volley of bullets. One exploded, but the other was tossed back. "Grenade!" Riza scooped it up and threw it again, but it exploded before it got far. She shielded Roy and Edward and was thrown into the wall.

"Fuck! Fullmetal, cover me!" Roy dove for her as a hail of earthen bullets smashed into the far wall. "Riza! Talk to me!" She coughed violently, splattering her front with blood. Her body had no strength left.

"I… I… ugh… kah… "

"Don't move, just stay there and breath! We'll get you out of here!" He turned to Edward. "Fullmetal! Riza's out of commission! Help me get her to cover and then get that door open!"

He fired in bursts of two and three, conserving ammo and blowing away two enemies. Return fire peppered the walls with bullet holes and shredded the front of his cover.

"Mustang! I can't work with all these fucking bullets! Can't you get rid of them?!"

"Hell no! I'm barely holding them off as it is! I use fire, not guns!" He ducked as another burst went by him. "Goddammit!" The firing stopped for a moment and he peeked above his cover. He ducked when two canisters bounced into the hallway. They came to rest against his cover with a slight *_ting_* sound. "Fullmetal! Grenade!" He yanked the teenager down to the ground, bracing himself for the blast and shrapnel.

That there was no blast was his first inkling that something was very wrong. Instead a hiss filled the air. "Shit! Gas, gas, gas!" Mustang stumbled back from the crate, yanking his shirt up over his nose. The smell stung his nostrils despite his hastily improvised gas mask. The fast acting gas quickly overcame Edward as weeks of sleep, water, and food deprivation took its toll. He coughed, choked, and was quickly out cold. Roy held on a little longer, falling to the floor. As he struggled to keep his eyes open, he heard Alphonse yelling Fullmetal's and his name. His vision started to fade as gas mask wearing Drachmans ran down the hall. He reached out as they knelt by Riza and checked her pulse and breathing. One of the soldiers shook his head. He aimed one final vicious kick at her then went over to Fullmetal. The man nodded this time and gestured for his compatriots to take care of the boy. Finally, they came to him. One leaned down to check his pulse and made eye contact with him. Behind the lenses of his mask his brow furrowed and he gestured for someone else. A weight slammed into the back of his head and he knew no more.

* * *

Riza struggled to stay present. She viewed events with a detached, clinical interest. She calmly noted the pain from the kick in her side, acknowledged Alphonse's scared and desperate cries, and only barely noticed the Drachmans taking away Roy and Edward.

Wait.

Taking away Roy and Edward.

Welp, fuck.

Riza tried to move, but could only shift her arm a few inches. Her hand was numb; that was bad, wasn't it? Somewhere deep in her brain she desperately formulated ideas, plans, anything! They were so close!

Her head slumped to her chest. She saw her bloody, beaten, half-dead body. She raised one hand partway and looked at it, examining the bloody skin. Riza thought. She needed a distraction, something to get them away from her friends. And Roy. Something big. Something flashy.

That'd work.

* * *

Havoc was sitting behind a large slab of concrete with another soldier, smoking and telling stories. "Yeah, and there was this one time, guy's holding the civvie with a knife, telling us all to 'back the fuck down or I'll cut this little bitch's throat!' Then chief is all like 'did you just call me little?!' The guy's all 'huh? what?' Then the chief becomes like some kind of demon, just destroys that guy! MPs actually had to restrain the chief! Last I checked, that guy still had 3 months of recovery to go. And this other time -" Suddenly the ground shook and dust rained on the two of them.

"The fuck?" The soldier and Havoc grabbed their weapons and aimed at the abandoned factory where the explosion occurred.

"Stand down! Corporal, private go check it out!" Two soldiers ran over to the dust cloud and knelt to peer into it.

"Nothing sir! Just a bunch of rubble and dust… Wait, I see something…

"That looks like a gun…"

"Hang on, there's someone down there! Get down here Mathais! Wait a sec, holy fuck, is that Flame?! And that's Fullmetal too!"

"Holy shit! You're right! What the fuck?! They went missing two whole weeks ago! What are they doing here?!"

"Hey, get a medic! They're half dead!"

"Medic! Medic!"

Havoc swore and, ignoring the alarmed shouts of the men beside him, ran over to the scene. Mustang and Edward were in a deep crater, lying against the walls beneath a large amount of concrete debris. Next to them was a pile of crates, splintered and broken. Various pieces of armor spilled out, and Havoc recognized them as Alphonse. He started to grin but then stopped cold. Something was wrong.

Where the fuck was Riza?

* * *

**A/N: **_Whoooooo! This chapter is my longest one yet, I think. Thank you to everyone who read this story. Every view matters to me! Special thanks to those who took extra time out of their busy days to write a review and click those fav and follow buttons._

_Exhibit A for the prosecution: Witness how the defendant stays up until 1, watching funny videos and neglecting his duties to write! And when he does write, he is so incompetent as to create this… this… travesty! As a jury, it is your duty to find the defendant _guilty_!_

_Or at the very least help me improve everything. Mash that review button!_


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **_Alright, over 30 reviews! Thank you people so much! And thank you for the new favorites and follows too! I apologize for the shorter chapter._

_Thank you to MaskedMuse for your advice. I will see how I can implement it in this chapter and future ones. Without further ado, here we go!_

* * *

Central City

Old Factory Ruins

2015 Hours

"One, two, three!" Havoc and Falman heaved another block of concrete rubble out of the pit, adding it to the growing pile of twisted steel and broken earth. Nearby medics leaned over Mustang and Fullmetal, who lay covered with blankets, in order to protect their bodies from the shower of debris. Next to them investigators were questioning a partially reassembled Alphonse. He replied to their questions in a heavy and subdued voice. "Okay Falman, I think that's enough for now." Havoc waved to a pair of soldiers standing by the side of the pit. "Hey, our shift is over. Can you cover for us here?"

They nodded and climbed down into the pit where they proceeded to continue clearing the rubble. Falman dusted off his hands and cast his gaze around the work site, searching for the rest area. "Let's grab some coffee. We can check up on the colonel and Fullmetal after." Havoc nodded his assent and began to thread his way through the debris. Already at the tent were two other soldiers.

"Hey, hey, you know what I heard? Those weapons Mathais and Hawkins found? They've been ID'd as Drachman!"

"You're shitting me! For real?"

"Yeah! And you know what else? They haven't finished checking all the blood for genetics, but they have ID'd some of the blood as the Hawk's Eye's."

"No shit! Wait, where's the body then?"

"That's the thing! Oh, sorry sir." The two soldiers moved off to continue their conversation elsewhere while Falman and Havoc poured themselves some coffee.

"Hawkeye? I guess she did get taken with the colonel." Havoc commented as he sipped the coffee, grimacing at the terrible quality. Falman seemed to have no problem with the vile beverage though.

"I wonder if she's dead. There was a lot of blood down in that hole."

"Mm. I doubt it. If the colonel _and _the Elrics made it out of there, then she did too." Havoc stirred a little sugar into his drink.

"Still, it looks like the roof probably fell on her. Knowing her, she was right next to the colonel, and, well…" Falman trailed off and gestured towards the pit, where the scene spoke for itself. He and Havoc tossed off the rest of their coffee and threw the cups into the garbage bag. "Let's go check on the colonel."

Falman and Havoc made their way through various groups of soldiers and workers. On the way they passed Breda coordinating a small squad to shift debris and Fuery working at the radio in the command post. The two found their way to the colonel's stretcher, greeted the medics and squatted down by his side. "Yo, colonel, can you hear me?" A medic saw what they were doing and shook his head.

"Good luck with that, mate. That poor guy's gonna be out cold for the next few days. F-Tan is nasty stuff and combined with a bad concussion and how beat up he is, I'm surprised he's looking this good." He shook his head, said something about "damn reckless fools" and walked off to check on the Elrics.

"Ah, screw him. The colonel's tougher than that, aren't you colonel?" Still no response. Havoc checked his pulse and breathing, finding them a little weak but consistent. Sighing, he kept talking. "Anyways, whenever you wake up, you're going to have to tell us about what happened. Especially Hawkeye. I don't think the office will be able to function without her, eh?" Not even a twitch. Havoc shook his head. "Well, get better soon. We've missed you." Falman and he got up to get back to work.

Suddenly, Mustang's hand weakly tapped Havoc's ankle. "Havoc… that you?"

Havoc jumped and spun and when he saw the colonel laughed in relief. "Mustang! I knew you were tougher than that!"

Mustang looked up with glazed eyes. "Where… where is this…"

"Don't worry, you'll be okay now. You're in the industrial district. You've got medics working on you, don't try to move around too much. That gas they hit you with is apparently pretty nasty."

"Riza… where's Riza…" Havoc flinched and looked over at Falman for help. Falman shook his head. Havoc forced a grin and replied.

"She's, uh, she's right here, yeah. Sorry, she's kind of out of your sight, but don't worry! You'll see her soon." His grin was becoming painfully tight. Luckily, a medic overheard and came to his rescue.

"Alright colonel, just take it easy. Get some rest, don't try to do anything. You're in a bad way. Hey, I need 30 ccs of plasma over here, stat!" He waved the pair away, mouthing "I got this". Falman nodded and pulled Havoc away. They took their time walking back over to the work site. On the way they stopped by the CP to check in.

"Major, our shift is over. Do you have any orders for us sir?"

"One second. What do you mean, he's taking command?! I've been in command for the past 3 weeks! You can't just replace me! What?! Oh - oh, okay. Still - what? Oh. I see. Yes sir. I understand sir." He replaced the phone and turned to the two, rubbing his temples. "Sorry about that. What can I do for you?"

Falman raised his hand to ask a question. "What was that, sir?"

"Oh, that. Command has gone over my head. I've been relieved of command, by that son of a _bitch_!" Havoc's fears were growing.

"Who's in command now?"

"Colonel Eric fucking Herschel. You know him?"

Everyone standing nearby paled at the name. Anything that dreaded officer touched fell apart. While Herschel always managed to get off without any trouble, those who actually worked on the tasks were punished with anything and everything from kitchen patrol to demotion to courts-martial. "Hell yes I know him. That bastard's coming to screw up another investigation, huh?"

The major grimaced. "I was under that guy's command in Ishval. Those under his command tended to get killed in bayonet charges on Ishvalan gun positions. I watched my lieutenant get mowed down by a machine gun and three quarters of my platoon die from a mortar trying to scale a wall. Back then he was company captain. When we limped back to the camp he chewed us out for not taking the objective then took a promotion to battalion major." His hands clenched into fists at the memory. Havoc and Falman looked down at their boots. Any soldier who had ever been under the command of an incompetent officer could sympathize.

"I'm sorry. That must have been hard. Anything we can do sir?"

"Yes. Get these boxes over to the investigations people. They'll be interested in the evidence. After that help the crews taking the rubble off site. Dismissed."

"Sir!" They snapped their boots together, saluted, and left to carry out their orders.

* * *

Central City

Gardner General Hospital

0900 Hours

"Mmm… don't wanna wake up… too early…" Roy tried to lift his arm to ward off the sunlight but found it oddly stiff, heavy and sore. He tried to crack open his eyelid and hissed as the sunlight burned his unadjusted eyes. Slowly, he lifted one eyelid then with a great effort opened the other. He groaned quietly as the light caused his headache to throb with a vengeance. "Wha… what?" His throat was dry and his voice was hoarse and quiet. Roy looked down at the rest of his body. Several IVs were hooked up to his arms, which were covered in bandages and a few casts. His chest area was heavily bandaged and IVs were coming out of his sides. Both his legs were wrapped and set, his left leg lifted in the air by a strap. Disturbingly, all the bandages had small spots of blood on them. "Hello? Is anybody there?" he shouted warily, not knowing if he was still a prisoner or not. The nurse pulling open the curtain would have had him snapping if not for the heavy cast on his arm. And the absence of an ignition glove.

"Glad to see you're awake colonel. How're you feeling?"

"Like Briggs just fell on me. Who are you? Where am I? How -" he fell into a coughing fit. When he recovered he continued "how long has it been?"

"I'm HM1 Foster, your nurse for the duration of your stay here. You're currently in Gardner General Military Hospital, Central City. This was the only hospital close by equipped to handle your case after they pulled you out of that hole. You were in surgery for hours and after that you were out for a week." Roy was confused. Hole? Last he'd checked he'd been gassed in a corridor, presumably underground. What was this about a hole? She saw his confusion and quickly clarified. "They found you after an explosion caved in the ground above you." Explosion, eh? Drachmans must have messed up.

"Where're the Elrics?"

"The smaller one is in the room next door. He hasn't woken up yet. Armor boy is getting rebuilt by the engineers. Apparently, he's teaching them more about materials science than they ever knew." He nodded. At least the brothers were safe. But where was…?

"Where's the lieutenant?" She winced as if the question had struck her. "She… they didn't tell you?"

"Where is she?" The nurse exhaled slowly.

"Before you say anything else, they never found a body. She might still be alive." The words hit him smashed into him with the force of a train. Never found a body. _Might_ still be alive.

"What… what do you mean?" Roy was almost afraid to ask. The answer would probably be harder to bear than the uncertainty.

"After the cave in, they found so much blood in the pit. They've ID'd a good portion of it as lieutenant Hawkeye's. There was a gun with her fingerprints next to the debris pile." Roy slowly fell back against his pillows. His mind crashed into a concrete wall going 140 km/h. He tried to reconcile his hopes with reality and failed completely and spectacularly. "She's missing, presumed dead." Missing, presumed dead. Any veteran soldier knew to dread those words. In the Ishvalan campaign, those words had meant that your comrade's body was now drying out in the desert sands, left there as a message by the Ishvalan resistance. Riza was as good as gone.

"I… I see. And… you're sure about this." She nodded sadly.

"Yes. And for what it's worth? I'm very sorry." The nurse looked around not knowing what to say. "I'll give you some time."

"Thank you." She closed the door gently behind her. Inside the room, Roy simply stared at the wall across from him. He kept trying to comprehend the reality of Riza being gone and just could not. How was he going to continue without her being there, without her pushing him to do his paperwork, watching his back, and giving him one of those rare, precious smiles she reserved only for him? Come to think of it, he never did get an explanation for her abilities. Just one more thing that would forever haunt him.

He now had an inkling of what she felt during the battle with Lust. A fog descended over his brain hindering all rational thought. His emotions churned and frothed and would have spilled over completely if not for the one overriding thought still left in his brain. _Don't cry_. Riza wouldn't cry, and he wouldn't either. It was the least he could do for her.

Roy Mustang sat in his bed, staring at the far wall. Riza Hawkeye was gone. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't cry.

It was raining.

* * *

Central City

Old Factory Ruins

0050 Hours

"черт побери… почему это больно есть*?"

"Ah, there you are corporal. Don't worry, we'll have you down there in a second."

"Thanks sergeant. Guess I owe you a drink, huh?"

"золотой облако, not that shitty stuff they serve in the strip bars."

"Fuck you, you know how my wallet aches."

"Yeah, yeah, bitch when I get you down. You're damn lucky they left you alive. Half our people are dead from the explosion alone. Why'd they spare you, anyway?"

"I wish I knew."

* * *

**A/N:** _Anndddd done! Sorry, this is a short chapter this time. Sort of a breather between action and to set some stuff up. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the response to my last chapter. *Sniff* I'm not crying. I'm might not be able to put out a chapter next week. There's some stuff going on and I don't have total access to the computer. I'm so sorry._

_Anyways, thank you! Keep faveing, following, and mashing that review button!_

_* Loosely translated as: "Dammit… why does it hurt there?"_

_Note 2: Not related, but check out these songs on youtube._

_ watch?v=CmpsP1KLumo_

_ watch?v=_4B5Hzuvy_0_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_I'm back to working on TWAS now! I hope you liked the two one-shots I published. So, on with the story! Thank you for all the support! I'm really grateful to you all for taking the time to hit those buttons and type those reviews!_

* * *

Examination Room 3B

Gardner General Hospital

1650 Hours

1 week later

"Before we start, let's get one thing straight. This isn't a prosecution. Nothing you say will be used against you. Make yourself comfortable. Say anything you feel like."

"So why am I here?"

"This was the only place we could secure on such a short notice. Don't worry, this won't take too long. Now let's begin." The investigator shuffled his papers and placed one in front of himself. "Some establishing questions. Where were you and what were you doing when you were captured?"

Roy thought for a second. "I was heading to investigations. I opened the door and got smacked in the face by a rifle. They ripped off my ignition gloves and drugged me." The investigator wrote down the response and nodded.

"Okay. Describe the place they took you to." His eyes became haunted as he remembered his captivity.

"I woke up in… I guess just a concrete room. That was it. No other features, except for a few mountings on the walls. Riza… I mean the lieutenant and I were restrained to those." Roy paused and thought for a moment. "After a little questioning they took us down and threw us in a cell. Only one bed and a sink. They threw in a few bandages too." The investigator noted this as well.

"Alright. The Elrics were in the… structure with you as well, weren't they?" Roy nodded.

"Yes, but they were held in another part of the building and not questioned very much." He paused. "Why is this investigation being held, anyways?"

"We're attempting to trace the Drachmans who captured you back to their home base. If we can officially implicate Drachma, well…" The investigator shrugged. "That's above my pay grade. Let's continue." He pulled another paper out. "This one's interesting. How did you and lieutenant Hawkeye manage to break free? From the Elrics' initial reports, it seems like you two freed them."

On the outside Roy appeared impassive, if deep in thought. On the inside he was panicking. His brain was divided into two factions: one ordering him to be a good soldier and reveal Riza's abilities, the other one shouting at him to protect Riza and not spill. After a long and intense campaign lasting all of several seconds, one faction used superior tactics, heavy artillery, and sheer numbers to beat the other side into submission.

"I'm not entirely sure. It happened really fast. I think Riza managed to grab a gun and shoot the ones dragging us out of the room. After that it was just run and gun." The inspector set the pen down.

"One last question. Do you know what happened to lieutenant Hawkeye?" Roy looked down at his hands.

"… I wish I knew. I wish I knew."

"… Thank you for your time, colonel."

* * *

Central City

Central Headquarters

1000 Hours

The sergeant sitting at the front desk of the Central Headquarters yawned and flipped the page of his newspaper. Nothing was happening. There was never any excitement around here. Oh sure, there had been some excitement back when Flame had disappeared, but that was so far above his pay grade as to be in space. Now, there was nothing to do but read the newspaper and nod at the people who came in.

The front doors opened and two sets of footsteps came in. The sergeant didn't look up, just held out his hand for the ID badges. "Welcome. ID please." He grunted out the minimum regulation greeting.

"Here you go sergeant." He took the IDs without looking, did a quick check, then handed them back.

"Thank you for your cooperation." The sergeant glanced up as he handed the badges back, looked back at his newspaper, then whipped his head back up in surprise. "Wait a second… are you really…?"

Roy nodded. "Thank you, sergeant." His escort, a young Internal Security corporal, whispered urgently in his ear.

"Colonel, I apologize but we need to get moving." He looked down at the corporal for a second then nodded in affirmative.

"Very well. Let's go." The two walked off, leaving a gaping sergeant behind. This day had been coming for a while. Even though Roy was still on crutches and had regular treatment and therapy, duty called. There was important work to be done in order to save the country. Without it the military would collapse. Yes.

It was time to put his signature on meaningless documents. God. Dammit. "Doesn't getting almost killed excuse me from paperwork?" Silence was as good as a response. "The brass really don't care, do they?" Roy murmured to himself. Then again, the military high council didn't seem to care much about what happened to anybody below the rank of brigadier general.

The office door loomed large in his vision. How long had it been since he had set foot in here? A month? Felt like more. "Show time."

There was only silence in the office as pens scratched on paper. It wasn't the depressed, heavy silence that had occupied the room for the month or so, but it was still tense. Team Mustang still didn't know where Riza was and Mustang wouldn't be all systems go for a weeks or even months to come. Thus when the door opened they were all caught by surprise. "What the… boss! What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be resting!"

Roy tiredly waved off their concerns. "I'm functional. It's good to see you all again." He mustered a tired smirk. "Did you blow anything up while I was gone?" The IS corporal left, closing the door behind him.

Havoc shot back "No sir, we were saving that for you once you got back. Besides, you're in no condition to be blowing stuff up. Hell, I bet you can't even snap."

"Believe me, if I had my way I'd be in a hospital bed getting washed by the nurses but the brass decided to be dicks and cut my stay short. From now on I'm working again." He glanced at the shift timers. "Any reason why you didn't mark the lieutenant and I as absent?"

Fuery was the one who answered the question. "You weren't really gone. You just weren't here at that time." He smiled. "We didn't need to set it to absent."

He couldn't help it. The earnestness in Fuery's voice made Roy laugh, a small, short, chuckle. "Thanks Fuery. Thank you all of you. It's nice to know you didn't give up on me."

Falman pulled a face. "About giving up on people. Rumour says they're already planning Hawkeye's funeral. Two or three weeks until it happens."

"They've given up on her already? Doesn't she deserve a little more time?"

"Honestly, I think it's for the best. It's time to move on. It's what she would want. Come on. We have work to do."

* * *

Amestrian Military Cemetery

Central City

1700 Hours

Two weeks had gone by. Riza's official status was confirmed as "missing in action, presumed dead".

"Attention!" In front of the empty coffin, seven soldiers snapped to crisp attention, white gloves contrasting with blue dress uniforms. First lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was being buried with full honors in lieu of an actual body. Team Mustang stood at the front of the mourning soldiers, at attention. Beside them were the Elrics, hands clasped in front and heads bowed. Behind them stood several ranks of soldiers, all former comrades of Ishval or people who had known lieutenant Hawkeye in life.

"… and though she is lost to us, she lives on through us, and through our deeds, and through our memories."

"Present, arms!" In unison, Seven rifles snapped up from the ground into the air.

"Her selfless sacrifice has enabled us, and ennobled us, to carry on. She will not be forgotten." The chaplain finished the regulation funerary rights and stepped back, nodding to the sergeant.

"Right shoulder, arms!" All the soldiers in the rifle squad were sharpshooters, a tribute to the best sniper Amestris had ever known.

* * *

Unknown Location

Unknown Time

"Welcome back. We have a hot meal and a drink waiting for you. Do you have the package?"

"Yes. I'm afraid it's all we were able to salvage, sir."

"That's alright. Better than nothing."

"This had better be worth it. We wasted two and a half medical kits on this shit."

"Trust me, lieutenant, this will be worth the lives of your men. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten."

* * *

"Take aim!" The rifles were brought up and aimed into the sky. Roy braced himself for the gunshots. Havoc noticed and quietly patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry. We're here for you. We'll get through this."

"Fire!"

* * *

"Well, where is it?"

"It's in the back. I'll need some help getting it out, it's not easy to move."

"I'll send some men out. Get some food, you've earned it."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Roy stood still, staring straight ahead, not looking at anything in particular. If he could be said to be focused on something, it would have been that empty coffin. In a way, it would have been better if there had been a body. That way he could have had some closure. He prepared not to flinch at the second volley.

"Fire!"

* * *

"Goddamn, why is this thing so heavy?"

"Remember what's inside it, dipshit?"

"Oh yeah. How are they keeping it quiet, anyways?"

"You'd be amazed what a few weeks of one-eighth rations combined with a few drugs can do for a person. I should know."

"… Do I want to know why?"

"No."

* * *

"Fire!" The last volley was shot, the rifles were lowered, the soldiers stood at attention. The coffin was slowly lowered into the grave. The burial detail stepped forward and began to shovel dirt in. Team Mustang saluted the grave the entire time.

"Honor guard, form up!" The soldiers turned and arrayed themselves in a half circle facing the grave, rifles at their shoulders. A bugler played Taps.

"Let's go. It's time to head back." Roy held his hand up.

"Just… 5 minutes. I just need 5 minutes." A light breeze blew through the cemetery scattering leaves and small pebbles. He held his cap in front of his chest with one hand, then took out a pistol with the other. Roy stared at it for a good long time.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, he spoke to the grave. "This pistol saved my life, you know. You created it. I never got to properly thanked you. I suppose I never will now. Still, you would want me to move on, not to dwell on it. Probably good advice. You never let me down. So, here's to us, and what could have been. One last hurrah." He held the pistol up.

* * *

"Yes, just put the package on the loading dock. Careful! It's fragile goods."

"You don't say." The soldiers placed the crate down with great care.

"Get the facility ready for the package. I want class five restraints on the package from the moment she wakes up. At least three guards on her at all times. From what you've told me, we ought to take no chances."

"If you really want my advice, sir, you'll execute the bitch and save us all the trouble. She probably doesn't know anything anyway."

* * *

Roy walked away from the gravestone. He climbed into the official car along with the rest of his team. The seat embraced him as he sat down, inviting him just to sink into it and forget his troubles. He sighed and tugged off his ignition gloves. Resting his elbows on his knees, he nodded to the driver.

As the car moved off, the breeze stopped. A single leaf came to rest on the pistol sitting against the headstone. The freshly dug earth lay still. Nothing disturbed the silence. As far as the world was concerned, Riza Hawkeye was dead.

* * *

"Alright people, get ready. The gas is wearing off. Don't let her do _anything._"

"Don't need to tell me twice."

"Where are we moving her again?"

"Just follow me. Okay, here we go."

* * *

Central Headquarters

Central City

1900 Hours

Riza's desk sat empty in the office. Looking at it tore a fresh wound in Roy. "How long do you think it'll be until they replace her?" He glared at Breda. The target of his glare shrugged. "Just saying. Remember when Collins bought it?"

Falman pulled a face. "How could we forget? We found enough pieces to fill a shoebox, if the blood hadn't soaked through first."

Breda nodded. "Yeah, that was one assignment I'm glad I wasn't on. The replacement came pretty damn fast, don't you think? We reported for duty the week after that and there was some greenie sitting at his desk."

Fuery ended the trip down memory lane. "Let's not talk about this right now." A meaningful nod towards Mustang.

He stood up from the desk. "The lieutenant wouldn't want us to hang onto her. She would want us to move on." A long sigh, a heavy silence. "Let's get to work." As he walked to his desk, he set Riza's shift timer to "absent".

"Good night, Riza. Good work. See you in the morning."

* * *

The package slowly stirred and yawned. She blinked open one eye, shaking away the fog of a drug induced sleep.

"She's awake. You do the honors, lieutenant." A rough backhand woke her up instantly and a gasp escaped her before she could bite it back. Her eyes focused on the scene in front of her. They widened with fear.

_No! No! I escaped from that! We made it out! Why am I here?! Why?!_

A grin. "Good morning, lieutenant Hawkeye. I'm so glad you could be here today. We have much to discuss."

* * *

**A/N: **_Annnd finish! Thank you for reading my one shots and the previous chapter! I hope you didn't wait too long for this chapter. I honestly think it's pretty shitty._

_Yeah._

_Ugh. Anyways, help me make this better. Fave, follow, and mash that review button!_


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **_Let's do this! Thank you for the response you gave to the last chapter! Keep it up! Hey, if there's anything you want to see or don't want to see anymore, feel free to tell me. I'm still new to this stuff!_

* * *

Facility Gamma

Drachma-Amestris Border Region

1900 Hours

"Hurk!" The woman grunted as Corporal Ivan slammed his rifle into her back.

"Move faster." She glared at him but picked up the pace, limping faster. Vikentiy, promoted to sergeant to fill the recently vacated position, adjusted his gun to better cover her. They walked in silence until their little group came to a sturdy metal door. Vikentiy slung his gun and stepped forward with a key ring while Ivan covered the woman. He fumbled with the keys some before choosing the right one. With a creak of protest from the hinges the door swung open. Inside, part of the room was taken up by a small cell. The rest was simply for observation. Ivan shoved the prisoner into the cell and Vikentiy locked it.

Behind them two more soldiers entered and took over guarding duties. Ivan and Vikentiy nodded to them and headed to the dining hall. After collecting their meals they went their separate ways, each going to eat with their own unit. Vikentiy walked in on the middle of a conversation.

"So, Borodin, how's the home life for you? Everything good with your girl?"

"No, it's not going too well. I mean, it's nothing between us. But you know how it is, ration lines getting longer, blackouts every other day, buildings falling apart underneath you. I should be there, but I'm stuck in this outpost staring across the border. Fuck this shit, you know."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Every day, more attacks, more crackdowns. I got a letter from home, and the parts that weren't blacked out still told me everything I need to know. I mean, we're black ops. We do some fucked up shit. But StateSec?" The man shivered for added effect.

"Snakes man. Plain and simple. That's what they are. You know, back home? The guy across the hall complained about something, I don't know what, it got blacked out. Guess what? Never got home from his trip to the ration line. That was, what three hours after he complained? They're listening." Vikentiy sat down with his sandwich and listened in.

"Careful what you say." The soldier looked around carefully then leaned in and whispered. "You know that newbie? What's his name, um…"

"Petrov?"

"Yeah, Petrov! He's got that look, you know, just a feeling around him. I think he's a spook." Everybody murmured in surprise.

"No way! That skinny little thing?"

"Now that you mention it, he's always looking at people, testing them almost." Vikentiy finished his sandwich and stood up. He needed to practice on the range. "Leaving so soon, Vikentiy?" He looked back. One of the soldiers had found a vodka bottle. "Come on, have a drink with us!" Vikentiy smiled and shook his head.

"Sorry, I've got to be sober. I'll be on the range if you need me." A thought occurred to him. "Where did you find that stuff? Alcohol isn't allowed here." The soldier grinned and motioned for him to lean in.

"Commandant has a stash in his quarters. I found it while I was on cleaning duty and snagged one of the bottles in the back." He showed Vikentiy the bottle. It was an insanely high proof, near enough to set on fire.

"Alright, I'm going to disappear now. See you." He walked off to the range, leaving the soldiers to their alcohol and conversation.

* * *

Central Headquarters

Central City

0800 Hours

"Good morning everyone." It was a fine day. The sun was shining through the windows, the birds were chirping. The temperature was fine; not too cold, not too warm. It was a day for vacations, for picnics, for just taking a nap on the lawn. In fact, it was almost lunch time. Why not-

"More paperwork, sir." Welp, shit. Never mind. Roy groaned and turned back from the window. That nap would have to wait.

"Put them here, private." The man laid the papers on the desk, saluted, then turned and left the office. Falman began to pass out the work. Those that the officers could do themselves they took care of. Those that needed Roy's signature they passed up the line. And there were a _lot _of forms that required his signature. Permits for leave, requests for funds, personnel transfers, blah, blah, blah. More than once he dozed off, only to jerk awake expecting Riza's patent death glare aimed at him. It only caused the wound to hurt anew when she wasn't there to encourage him.

Breda noticed him sneaking glances at her empty desk. When Roy met his gaze he quickly looked away, embarrassed. "Don't worry boss. I get it. It hurts for me too." Breda thought quickly, looking for something to change the subject. "Hey, everyone. What do you think's taking the replacement so long? It's been more than a month."

A rather tasteless way to change the subject, but Breda had never been one for tact and besides, it worked. Havoc replied. "Yeah, now that you mention it, command hasn't even given us profiles yet. It's as if they've lost them or something."

Fuery spoke up. "Do you really think they lost the paperwork? Maybe we should go check." This time Falman shook his head.

"It won't do any good. Personnel is where they stick all the incompetents they don't have time to discharge. Ask them a question, get an answer in a few months. If you get it at all."

Havoc snorted. "Tell me about it. Herschel runs Personnel, so it's no surprise it's so fucked up. With that man in charge, I'm surprised it's as good as it is." At this point Roy interrupted the conversation.

"As much fun as this conversation is, we all have work to do. I'm not disagreeing with you, but if Herschel ever hears about this, he could have you discharged just like that." He snapped his fingers, making sure his glove was off. "Now, get back to work before we all lose our jobs." They returned to signing papers, grumbling and groaning, but not before Roy caught Breda's eye and shot him a small, grateful smile.

* * *

Facility Gamma

Drachma-Amestris Border Region

0100 Hours

"Do we really have to do this? It's my sleep shift."

"Chernov, did intelligence put you through one of the most brutal training courses in the history of training? No? Then leave interrogation up to the professionals and do what they say."

"Yeah Chernov, quit your bitching before you get us all gulaged!" The unfortunate Chernov sputtered into silence. He contented himself with pinching the bridge of his nose and wiping his eyes in a valiant attempt to stay awake.

Riza was trying to sleep in her cell and ignore her stomach. It was hard with two soldiers constantly watching her every move. She couldn't even go to the toilet without them looking at her. As she tried to get comfortable for what seemed like the hundredth time, she heard soft voices outside the door. The weaker part of her immediately hoped that it was food. The stronger part was determined not to look weak. Riza braced herself as the door opened.

"Hello Miss lieutenant. How are we doing today?" Ah, so it was the old "good cop, bad cop" ploy. She still had bruises from the bad cop.

"Riza Hawkeye, 189902, Amestrian State Military." Nope, not going to give them anything. If Roy hadn't broken, then she wouldn't either.

The interrogator sighed, looking as if he dealt with this on a daily basis. "Lieutenant, my superiors have taken a great interest in you and your abilities. They believe you could be of great benefit. Just answer the questions. Again, how are we doing today?"

"Riza Hawkeye, 189902, Amestrian State Military." Whatever this guy could throw at her, she was ready for it.

"If you aren't feeling cooperative lieutenant, then we will have to resort to more extreme measures. I know that you did not make many friends with the little stunt you pulled a few weeks ago." The four soldiers surrounding the man leveled dark looks at her. "Let's start with some more simple questions. How many people are currently on colonel Roy Mustang's staff?"

"Riza Hawkeye, 189902, Amestrian State Military." So, they were trying to get to Roy, eh? Not on her watch. They probably knew already anyways. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out.

"I'll ask one last time. Remember, it's up to you how this is going to go. How many people are currently on colonel Roy Mustang's staff?"

"Riza Hawkeye, 189902, Amestrian State Military." _Kiss. My. Ass. _

"If you insist. Men? Go ahead. Remember lieutenant, you can end this at any time. Just answer our questions."

_Like you'll actually let me go. _Riza didn't believe him for one second. But she had no more time for thoughts. The guards were pulling open the cell door and the soldiers coming in did not have mercy on their minds.

* * *

Central Headquarters

Central City

1030 Hours

"Yes! Hell motherfucking yes! WHOOOO!" Breda threw his hands above his head and ran into the cafeteria, leaving behind an amused Havoc and Falman and a bewildered Fuery and Roy.

"Uh…is he alright?" Roy was almost afraid to ask. In fact, half the soldiers in the cafeteria seemed to be as excited, if not more so, than Breda.

Havoc replied simply. "It's Taco Day." Roy looked at him confused.

"Taco Day? I didn't know we had that." Havoc looked at him strangely. Then understanding dawned in his eyes and he looked at Roy sympathetically.

"Ah, yeah, they introduced it while you were… gone." Havoc tried to soften the statement, but it still hit Roy in the gut. Just another thing that had changed. Another reminder that he couldn't protect those he held dear. Noticing the looks the rest of his team were giving him he forced a smile.

"Well, if Taco Day is as popular as I think it is, then go ahead. It's lunch time." Havoc fist-pumped and ran to join the line. Fuery was close by, but Falman hung back to give Roy a little encouraging pat on the back. Then he was gone to stand in the line as well. Roy was left standing in the entrance, gazing into the cafeteria. Enlisted men, junior grade and midgrade officers mixed and mingled, chatting and laughing. His team sat down with a group of soldiers who worked down the hall and began swapping stories of operations gone wrong and conquests made in various bars around the city. Havoc spotted Roy and waved for him to join them. Roy smiled and shook his head politely. He then turned around and went back down the hall, leaning on his crutch.

Some ways down the hall he leaned against the wall and half-sunk to the floor. Normally he would have walked into the cafeteria without a second thought. But normally Riza would sit with him, ready with a small nudge or a meaningful glance to guide him through interactions with those way below his pay grade. Now, even though the junior grades still thought of him as one of their own, he found it hard to interact. Their concerns, their experiences, were different from his own. He sighed, shook his head, and continued on his way to the staff officers' dining hall.

Inside the various colonels and generals populating Central Headquarters dined. Roy paused as he opened the door. The only time he had set foot in here was for the welcoming meal, the second day after his reassignment here. From then on he made a point of eating with the lower ranks, getting to know them and their needs. The formal dining room felt foreign to him. He entered, found a table, and ordered his food. Even the ordering felt strange. Normally he stood in line and got food from the counter. Having his… whatever that piece of meat in front of him now was brought to him by a waiter seemed wrong, at least on a military base. "Hey bastard." Roy looked up startled from his musings.

"Fullmetal? What are you doing in here?"

"I was hoping you knew. Some guy came up to me in the hallway and told me to be here. Said something about 'orders'. I was hoping you knew what was happening." Edward looked closely at Roy. "This wasn't your doing, was it?" Roy shook his head.

"No. I didn't issue any orders regarding you. I've been a little busy." He gestured towards his crutch. Edward seemed confused and opened his mouth to ask another question. Before he could ask though someone came up to the table and sat down.

Roy looked over annoyed, then did a double take. "General Cortez, sir!" He nearly knocked over the table in his rush to stand and salute. The general replied by tossing a casual half-salute.

"Sit down, sit down. Ah, major Elric, good to see you too. I was just about to send a messenger after you colonel." He took the glass of wine sitting across the table for himself and swirled around the liquid. "Let's get down to business."

Roy and Edward shot strange looks at each other. "Sir?" Cortez smiled.

"Briggs is in need of reinforcements. In particular, they need alchemists." Cortez gave an apologetic smile that didn't seem apologetic at all. "I'm sorry to drag you away on such short notice, but insurgents blew up a train line and the last transport for a while is leaving for Briggs tomorrow. The request came yesterday." He downed the wine. "That will be all."

Cortez casually saluted the both of them, then turned and left the room with his staff.

* * *

**A/N: **_Are you guys even reading these notes anymore? :) Anyways, drop me a review, a fave, a follow or even a pm! Just let me know how I'm doing: style, grammar, all that. Also, if you sense my quality decreasing, let me know so I can fix the problem! Thank you for sticking with this story! Mash those buttons!_


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **_Nice to know you people are still reading these notes! *Whistles* 60+ follows, 30+ faves, 40+ reviews! Daayummm._

_SwampThirtyFour: I figured the elements would come from impurities in building materials: sulfur, charcoal (carbon), potassium, and nitrogen._

* * *

North City

Train Terminal

1700 Hours

"So you're sure Ms. Corwell is taking care of Hayate?"

"Yep. I gave her instructions and said I'd pay her back once we finished with this." Fuery looked nervous. "I mean, he should be alright with that, right?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine. Don't worry. Hey, we're slowing down. Looks like we're here." Breda stood up with a grunt, stretching out his sore muscles. Behind him the rest of Team Mustang stood up as well, collecting their bags and weapons from the overhead racks.

"Hey boss, you think we'll be able to buy some stuff in North City? I might have left a few things in my rush to pack." Roy shook his head while he pulled out his gloves.

"Orders are to acquire transportation to Briggs as soon as we can. We've got no time. You can check the orders if you want." He tossed the manila folder over to Havoc as Edward and Alphonse came into the compartment.

"Yo, chief. Do you have your cold-weather gear on?" Edward nodded and tapped his automail.

"I needed a repair anyway. Figured I'd get a set of automail that worked up here while I was at it. Sorry about your account, colonel. Carbon composite is expensive." He peered through the window, ignoring a spluttering Roy. "That's a lot of snow." A weather front had slammed into the northern region two days ago, dumping snow on everything. It didn't show any sign of dissipating for the next couple of weeks.

"Alright people, let's get moving. The transport options are slim and you don't want to be stuck in North City any longer than you have to. Trust me." Roy shuddered at the memory of alcohol, toilets and passing out in back alleys. "Bad things happen."

They stepped off of the train, onto the platform, and into a blast of below freezing air. The cold was almost a physical object that slammed into them and nearly sent them reeling. Alphonse being the exception, of course. "Mother of-! I knew it'd be cold, but the briefings never mentioned this!"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'll be happy once we get to Briggs." The group fought through the snow and into the main terminal building. Once inside, Roy and Havoc went to the liaison counter to locate the motor pool while the rest stood around.

"I'm looking for transportation to Fort Briggs, official military business." The receptionist scrutinized Roy's face. It was a little surprising that he didn't recognize colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, but this was North City. The people here were more than a bit isolated from the rest of the country.

"ID please?"

"Right here." He handed the card over and went through the standard authentication process.

"Okay, the motor pool is to the down this hall, to the left, and out the double doors. I'll call ahead. Your assigned vehicle will be…truck 188. Have a nice day, colonel."

"You too." The pair turned to go back to the others. When they arrived they found the rumor mill in full swing.

"So is it true that Briggs soldiers can defeat a bear one-on-one?" That was Fuery. As the physically weakest of the group, it was natural that he would be asking that question.

"Ah, that's just propaganda. You've got nothing to worry about."

"With those fur coats, they probably can't fight too well anyways." There would be the Central-Briggs rivalry making its presence known again. Roy decided to shut it down before anything came of it.

"Hey, while we're here, tune down the rhetoric okay? None of us really want to be here and a rivalry will just make us more miserable. So, and this goes for you too Fullmetal, no antagonizing the Briggs people. Got it?"

The group chorused back. "Yes sir!" Roy nodded, glad that the problem was over before it started.

"Well, it's 80 miles to Briggs. Let's get moving."

* * *

Amestris-Drachma Border

Facility Gamma

1900 Hours

"Let's have a little break." The five soldiers taking part in the "questioning" nodded, saluted, and walked out of the small cell stretching and chatting. Romanovich shut the door behind them, gestured to the two men with him, and appraised the prisoner.

Riza spit some blood out of her mouth. For some reason her run-of-the-mill bruises, cuts, and blunt force trauma injuries weren't bothering her as much as the fact that her right cheek was pressed against the cold, dirty floor. The pain might have been better if she could massage it out, but her hands were still tied to the chair. Rather uncomfortably too, due to the aforementioned position she found herself in. The ropes dug into her wrists. She'd lost her hair clip a while back.

"So, while we have some time to ourselves lieutenant, let's talk." It sounded like that Drachman - Romanovach? - but Riza wasn't sure. From her position she could only see the wall. She opted to remain silent and evaluate the situation.

"Maybe I can make this whole process easier for you." And here was the good cop. "Command is very interested in the potential power of alchemy to benefit the country. Not for military purposes, but to better the life of the average Drachman citizen. Currently, Drachma has no alchemists that could advise it. You could change all of that. What do you say?"

The facade was so obvious that Riza had to think about it for a second. Was this man really expecting her to believe that? He'd been there when the colonel, she, and the Elrics were all being held together. He ought to know that it would take more than that to make her talk.

"Please, you're only making it harder for yourself. Consider what I've just told you. I know you wish to help people. Why not do it now?" And then he left her, lying there.

* * *

Amestris-Drachma Border

Facility Gamma

1915 Hours

Romanovich shut the metal door behind him. His mouth felt physically unclean after acting so reasonable and sympathetic towards that Amestrian. Any longer in there and he might have been physically ill. He turned and headed for the bathroom, looking to clean out his mouth. Along the way he passed Vikentiy. They exchanged the usual salute and greeting, then went on their own ways. Romanovich was an excellent soldier, one of the best Romanovich had ever met, but the warm beds and hot food of Facility Gamma were turning him soft. Romanovich had been observing him during the interrogation, and Vikentiy didn't go quite as hard as he should have. Romanovich would find some way to sharpen him up.

What was command thinking? Did they not read his reports? Did they really think they were going to get that Amestrian to talk? As much as Romanovich wanted her to die a slow, painful death he had to admit that she was the type who would rather die than betray any secrets.

And really. Alchemy as the answer to Fort Briggs? There was no point in having alchemy if you couldn't get close enough to use it. Intel suggested that even the Flame Alchemist, arguably the State Alchemist with the longest range, could only kill effectively up to 110 meters. Fort Briggs' guns had ranges measured in kilometers. They would sip tea and nibble scones while shells turned the Drachman army into paste before they could even see them.

But of course, this time would be different. This time the strategists had a foolproof plan! It was brilliant! All the soldiers had to do was perform their tasks, and everything would go just as planned! Hah, sure.

Romanovich found himself in an empty break room. Most of the soldiers were performing maintenance, on the range, or asleep. The clock on the wall said 1903. He sat down on one of the couches and reached into his pack. "Where are they… don't tell me I lost them…"

Finally, he pulled out a worn and creased photograph and a letter. "Too bad I couldn't be with you… the weather here is really good… wish you could be home." Romanovich mumbled the words of the letter to himself. "Love, Katarina." He stared at the words. The photograph fell from his grasp, and he made no move to catch it. Half of the picture ended up under the couch. The woman in the photo smiled up at the ceiling, her arm around a Romanovich who looked much younger.

* * *

Amestris-Drachma Border

Fort Briggs

2030 Hours

"And what are you doing here, Mustang?"

"Glad to see you too, general." Major general Olivier Mira Armstrong, the Northern Wall of Briggs, the Ice Queen, and as some Briggs troopers referred to her behind soundproofed doors, Mama Bear, glowered down at the little entourage.

"Don't mess with me. You've got a lot of nerve showing up here unannounced." Roy raised an eyebrow at this.

"We have official orders telling us to report to Fort Briggs as, let's see, 'to make up for personnel shortfalls in response to requests for reinforcement'. I assume you needed more firepower." Armstrong ground her teeth at the insult.

"Bullshit. I made no such request. Show me those orders, or I'll have you back on that train so fast you won't even be able to snap." Unfazed by the threat, Roy took the file out and handed it to a Briggs soldier who ran it up to Armstrong. She took the orders out, scanned them, frowned, read them again, then crumpled them up and threw them away with a growl. "Mustang, is Central's personnel department made of magicians?"

"Not to my knowledge. Why?"

"They've somehow created an entire set of personnel requisition forms from thin air! Central's lack of competence is worse than I thought. Ah, fine. Welcome to Fort Briggs. You'll be here until I can get you kicked back to Central. And you will pull your weight while you're here. Any slacking off and you won't be eating. " She spun on her heel and marched back into the fortress, door slamming behind her.

Free from the general's dark, paralyzing aura, Edward and Alphonse gasped and fell to the ground on their hands and knees, breathing heavily and sweating even in the frigid air. "What… what was that… I thought I was gonna die!" The career military in the group looked at them with amusement and some confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you… not feel that… that killing intent!"

"Oh, that? Meh, we're used to it. Every time we slacked off in the office, we'd get it from Riza. To a lesser degree of course, but I guess it desensitized us." Nobody questioned Roy's use of Riza's first name, even after all this time. It seemed like he had a right to do so.

"Why are… all women so… scary! The lieutenant! That woman! Even Winry! Can't I meet just one non-scary woman?" Ed hung his head in despair while Alphonse patted him on the back, himself still on the ground.

"There, there. I'm sure your little mechanic girlfriend isn't that scary. I've got a piece of advice; don't look scared in front of the Briggs soldiers. They'll eat you for lunch if you do. Now, let's get out of the snow." The group agreed with vigor and enthusiasm and only sort of ran for the now open gates. Edward and Alphonse lay there for a little longer, until Edward's brain caught up.

"Bastard! SHE IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"Brother! Not the club!"

* * *

"Fire and steel are in the cold. Citadel is open."

"Confirm, Crown." The man didn't say anything, but clicked his microphone on and off in a complicated pattern. The other side clicked twice, then cut the connection.

Operative Crown, Drachman intelligence, put down the phone, grimacing at the tackiness of the "success" code phrase. The planners read too many cheesy spy novels for their own good. He had confirmed earlier that the landline connection hadn't been discovered and tapped, and that his connection to his handlers was secure. The information now lay in the hands of the courier, who would physically bring it to Drachman intelligence. Radio was too risky.

He took out an alcohol wipe and obliterated any trace of his fingerprints or DNA on the phone. He also made sure to destroy the traces of his footprints. Amestrian investigators were good, but they weren't perfect.

Crown walked out of the apartment. The records showed that it belonged to Carey Morehouse, and there really was a woman living there. She was a respectable woman with a good job, stable life, and a good network of friends. She was also operative Cardinal, Drachman sleeper agent. Not that you would have known by looking at her, or even by getting to know her.

He stepped out of the building and looked around for a tail. He was lucky it was this cold. It gave him an excuse to wear a scarf and a hat. Seeing nothing, he turned and walked towards the center of the city. There was work to be done in Central Headquarters.

* * *

Amestris-Drachma Border

Facility Gamma

0700 Hours

"Seventy three… seventy four… seventy five!" Vikentiy completed his last push-up and rolled over on the floor. That was the last of his usual morning exercise routine, including weights, burpees, crunches, and the treadmill. His arms needed to cool off before he hit the range, but so far it was a good day.

After getting his breath back, he picked up his submachine gun and made his way to the range. There were already about two squads worth of people there. Only a few targets were left open. Vikentiy took Number 30.

He centered the sights on where center mass would be. The gun kicked and the burst went high and to the left. Vikentiy frowned. The sights were out of alignment again. He safed the gun, adjusted the sights, unsafed and fired the gun again. This time a trio of small, neat holes appeared in the paper target's chest. This time he nodded, satisfied with the sights. The rest of the clip disappeared quickly, holes appearing in the target and on the wall surrounding it.

Two soldiers finished their target practiced and struck up a conversation. "Hey, where's supply closet 15?"

"My God, what do you want that shit for?"

"Intelligence wants us to move on to 'Tier Two' interrogation for the prisoner."

"Holy crap. Do they want intel that bad?"

"I guess. Tier Two is a little too much, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Geez." Vikentiy tried to figure out what they were talking about. Tier Two? But that meant… waterboarding, mock executions, fire, the full nine yards.

"Oh shit, they can't do that!" Vikentiy whispered to himself, head already full of horrible scenarios in which the prisoner got loose or Amestris found out. "Got to convince them not to." He safed his gun, slung it over his shoulder, and set out to find the lieutenant.

* * *

**A/N: **_Just read My Immortal._

…

…

… _0_0'_

_*Retching noises, followed by splattering sound* At least nothing I write is _that _bad. *Heaves*_

_Anyways, hope you liked it! Smack those buttons!_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **_School starts in 3! 2! 1! Now! High school, chem h, alg2/trig h, spanish 3, woohoo!_

* * *

Outpost Foxtrot

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0700 Hours

"Thunder, Thunder, this is Lightning. Fire mission requested at grid Kilo Four Alpha Nine. Multiple armored targets, repeat, multiple armored targets, over."

"Coordinates received, Lightning. Firing for effect. Be advised, limited anti-armor ordnance available. ETA one minute, over." Atop the massive wall of Fort Briggs, the cannons of 4th Squad, 9th Company, 15th Artillery Battalion, were repositioned to target grid coordinates K4, sub-coordinates A9. Breaches were pulled open, spent canisters removed, fresh propellant and shells loaded, and the breaches rammed closed. The lead gunner paused for a moment, confirming readiness and coordinates.

"Fire!" The 10 160mm 'Sweet 16' howitzers fired almost in unison, sending a hail of heavy anti-armor rounds towards the enemy targets.

Huddled inside Outpost Foxtrot, Sergeant Anthony Dawes peered through binoculars at the snow covered landscape. Atop a ridge 3 Drachman tank turrets peeked above the frozen ground. His machine gun team and riflemen took aim, knowing their weapons would do nothing against the heavy armor of the war machines.

They didn't have to fire, though. The first volley from 4th Squad, 9th Company, 15th Artillery Battalion landed true, several shells crashing into the vehicles, sending turrets flying into the air as ammo and fuel cooked off in massive secondary explosions. The rest of the rounds landed in the snow, sending up massive plume of dirt and ice that rained down everywhere. "Target, cease fire! Good effect, repeat, good effect!" The turrets now came crashing down as well, crumpling upon impact with the earth.

The now exposed Drachman infantry realized their vulnerability and attempted to fall back. They'd been spared by the artillery, courtesy of having a reverse slope position relative to the tanks. When they poked their heads up, though, any advantage they had was lost.

Sergeant Dawes opened fire first, sending rounds flying towards their ranks. His men opened fire as well, the cracking of the rifles, the ripping sounds of the machine gun, and the general muzzle flashes serving to nearly deafen and blind the men inside the tiny bunker.

To their credit, the Drachmans maintained discipline even as their soldiers were cut down, red splotches appearing on their clothes. Return fire came from the orderly retreat, peppering the bunker, obscuring firing lines with puffs of snow, and downing one of Dawes' men. It was all in vain though, as the sheer firepower and better positioning of Outpost Foxtrot won the day.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!"

"Cease fire!"

"Hey, dipshit! The sergeant says to cease fire!" Slowly, the soldiers stopped squeezing their triggers, allowing the smoke to clear, their vision and hearing to return, and thereby observe the effects of their firing.

"Damn! We got all of 'em!" A private in the corner of the bunker let out a victorious whoop, lifting his rifle over his head as far as the low roof would allow.

A corporal shook his head. "Slow your roll, asshat. We lost Ming." The downed soldier lay on the ground, still as death. The men began to sober, realizing that their comrade was gone.

The radio crackled. "Exercise complete. Repeat, exercise complete. All units, cease fire." Like a taut rope relaxing, all the tension in the room evaporated. The 'dead' man groaned on the floor, looking down at the wet paint on his chest.

"Dang, Ming! They got you good!" Private Ming gave the speaker an annoyed glare and a middle finger.

"Screw you, jackass! You're not the one who has to get this paint off his uniform!" By now, the 'Drachman infantry' were showing themselves as well. They made their way past the smoking wreckage of the three obsolete, uncrewed, M13 Chariot main battle tanks.

Inside the bunker, the soldiers were safeing their weapons, unloading paint rounds, and, in Ming's case, trying and failing to get paint off their uniforms. Dawes confirmed that no more rounds were incoming, then pushed open the door of the bunker.

"Hey, Dawes! Your ass was nearly ours!"

"Oh yeah? That's funny, I must have imagined the part where we kicked you right back to your mommas!" Dawes shot back in the standard, good-natured post-exercise banter. His men were coming out as well, trading jokes, comments and insults with OpFor.

"Yo Ming! That's gonna make a stain!"

"Screw you! I got at least two of you people!" The chatting continued, both sides letting off some tension after the multi-day exercise. Dawes smiled, then grimaced as he remembered the binoculars he'd left in the bunker. He tapped one of his men, whispered a quick message, then ran back to get it.

* * *

**Fort Briggs**

0800 Hours

Back at Fort Briggs, the soldiers of 4th Squad, 9th Company, 15th Artillery Battalion were also celebrating the successful conclusion of the exercise. The sergeant smiled briefly, then went to check that each cannon was unloaded and all ammunition accounted for.

He went gun by gun, looking in the breach to make sure it was clean and free of ordnance. Each gun had a pile of spent shells next to it, remnants of several fire missions. A Drachman assault, led by armor and supported by infantry had been simulated in the attack. The main goal had been to train the newly arrived green soldiers in calling in artillery. To that end, no anti-tank weaponry had been issued and the 'assault' had come as a surprise.

The sergeant looked into the ammo bins for each gun, counting the number of rounds missing and cross-checking with the gun crew and spent shell pile. He logged the number for each bin in a notebook. They would have to be replaced in the next supply delivery.

The crew of Gun #25 celebrated a job well done. Their gun fired part of the volley that repulsed the attack on Outpost Foxtrot. The sergeant smiled briefly at their antics; one soldier played a small guitar. He peered into their ammo bin, expecting to see several missing anti-armor and airburst training rounds.

So it came as a shock when in the live time-delay compartment there was one shell missing. He whirled and looked closely at the pile of shell casings. Sure enough, there was one canister with ID numbers corresponding to an actual M889 time-delay anti-infantry round, not a simple kinetic penetrator and flashbang training round. Judging by propellant residue, it was fired only a short time ago.

By now the gun crew had sensed there was something wrong. "Where was your last fire mission targeted on?!"

"Sir! Our last fire mission was in support of Outpost Foxtrot, grid Kilo Four Alpha Nine!"

"Get me a radio!" The sergeant grabbed a handset from the nearest radioman. "Outpost Foxtrot! Be advised, there is live UXO in your area! Repeat, there is live UXO in your area! Acknowledge!"

* * *

Outpost Foxtrot

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0802 Hours

"Godammit, where are they? I swear I left them right here." Dawes grumbled to himself as he searched for the binoculars. "Ah, here." He held up the field glasses, then turned to leave. Just as he opened the door the radio crackled to life.

"Outpost Foxtrot! Be advised, there is live UXO in your area! Repeat, there is live UXO in your area! Acknowledge!" Dawes' face went pale. Live, unexploded ordnance in the ground, in an area filled with soldiers milling around, not expecting any danger.

He burst through the doorway, frantically scanning with his binoculars. "Where, where, where, come on, give me a hint, where are you?!" As he looked, he spotted a small, black piece of metal jutting out of the ground. He sighed in relief. It looked like no one was near it. He could clear the men out of the area and detonate the thing from a distance. No one was going to get hurt today.

"Hey, hey, did you see me? I almost got away from you guys, but your machine gunner stitched me! I did get Ming, though." His binoculars shot back up. Wandering, without a care, towards the shell were two soldiers, laughing and chatting without a care in the world.

_Shit! Can't warn them, they're too close! _Even before the thought cleared his head his feet were in motion.

"I saw him aiming at me, you know, and I figure I'm about to go down so-Argh!"

"Uaah!" Dawes tackled the two men, sending all three of them flying into the snow. Safely away from the explosive.

"What the hell?! Sarge, what the hell did you do that for?!"

"Just stay down!" As if on cue, an explosion rocked the landscape, sending debris into the air and raining down on the soldiers of Outpost Foxtrot.

* * *

Fort Briggs

0820 Hours

For 20 minutes, the sergeant paced, waiting for word from the outpost. The soldiers of Gun #25 sat around, looking miserable. For all they knew, they might have killed some of their buddies.

"Thunder, this is Lightning. Ordnance neutralized. No casualties." The sergeant listened for another moment and, when no more messages came, went over to the nearest crate and sat down heavily. He put his head in his hands and whispered.

"Thank God. Thank God." The gunners grinned in relief. Everything turned out okay after all. One whooped and two lit up cigarettes.

The sergeant took a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself. He then stood up and glared at the gunners. Their celebrations stopped abruptly and they cowered under his gaze. "StateSec is going to look into this, and they are not going to like what they find." The soldiers exchanged fearful glances. Everyone knew StateSec's reputation. "Luckily for you incompetents, I can cover for you." Grins and fist pumps of relief. "But you will be doing hard labor and hard time as penance for your sins! Double time, to the pump room!"

* * *

Fort Briggs

General's Briefing Room

0900 Hours

"Mustang." Major General Olivier Armstrong stood behind Roy's chair, back turned to him. She'd been in here during the exercise, as the point had been to improve the autonomy of her soldiers. "You showed up in the middle of a major exercise. You better have a damn good alibi." A dark, dangerous aura radiated from her.

Roy simply smirked. "Well, I was feeling a little too warm down in Central, so I just felt like coming up here for some snow and sky." This dance was old. He'd been here so many times, the tense atmosphere felt comfortingly familiar, allowing him to relax into the verbal sparring. Roy even managed to forget about the past month's events.

Armstrong was not amused. "I see Central is still breeding its people soft. If it ever comes to war, you people will be absolutely useless. Are your 'soldiers' still fainting at the sight of blood?"

A muscle in Roy's jaw twitched at the reminder of the infamous incident during the 45th Annual War Games. "Well, at least we won't be sitting ducks when it comes to that. How do you even move in those coats?"

"Better than you, Mustang." Armstrong looked down at the personnel list. "Where's that lieutenant of yours? She's the only bright spot in that mess that you call a headquarters."

North City really didn't get much in the way of news. Armstrong's question was more than likely actually as a result of not knowing. That fact didn't bring much comfort to Roy. The wound caused by Riza's death was almost healed, so when Armstrong ripped off the scab it didn't hurt much.

Roy remained silent for a while. Finally, he licked his lips and swallowed. "She's… she's gone." Armstrong looked at him for a long moment. She closed her eyes and nodded.

"I'm sorry. She was a good soldier." Ice Queen she may have been, Armstrong could tell when someone was truly hurting.

"Yeah. She was." Anxious to move on from the topic, Roy consulted the his memory. "You called me here to assign duties?"

Armstrong nodded curtly. "Half your people will be on icicle duty. The other half will be performing inventory checks. Those were the most basic duties yet to be assigned. Think you can handle them?"

"I do believe so."

"Good. I'll leave individual assignments to you. I hate to admit it, but you know your people better than I do. Don't fuck it up, or none of you will be eating. Hand your assignments to Captain Buccaneer and Major Miles." Roy composed himself and re-plastered a smirk on his face.

"Will do, general. Thank you for your hospitality."

"Good. Now, get the hell out of my office." Roy already had his back to Armstrong, on his way out the door. He tossed a casual two finger salute and made his way down to his quarters where he had some paper and pencils.

As soon as he got back, he sat down and quickly created the rosters. It wasn't hard at all; inventory and icicle cleaning weren't exactly jobs that took specific skills. Roy didn't really like the balancing, though. _I think I'll assign both Elrics to icicle cleaning. Alchemy will be most useful there. Too bad I can't even up the alchemists with Riza. _

* * *

Facility Gamma

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

1800 Hours

She hated herself for it, but she quivered a little. Her arms and legs, bound to a wooden pole, nearly gave out with the sudden release. The _click _of the revolver hammer was like the judge pardoning her just before the execution.

"Well, well. An empty chamber. Looks like you were lucky this time, Ms. Lieutenant." She sent a death glare through the blindfold, but if it affected the Drachman he gave no sign. Now she recognized this technique for what it was. A mock execution, designed to weaken the subject's mental state through intense fear, anticipation, and extreme release of tension.

Riza felt ashamed to admit to herself that it worked. Try though she might to stay strong, her determination to not talk nearly drowned in her fear and now relief.

"Chernov? Ready?"

"Yes, sir!" Rough hands grabbed her, untied her, slammed her face down and bound her to a table.

A streak of pure, unadulterated, undignified fear shot through her, This was worse than her darkest imaginings. At least in those a hospital, her friends, and Roy were always nearby.

"Do it. You might want to plug your ears." _Huh? _She couldn't see anything through her blindfold, but she didn't think this was how these things happened.

Three sets of hellfire ignited simultaneously on her back. Beneath the blindfold her eyes shot wide open. She clenched her jaw so as not to scream. Still, the muscles of her lungs were stronger than those of her jaw.

"Music to my ears." She barely heard the officer say that through the shrieks of pain tearing their way out of her throat. As she writhed in the restraints, the part of her brain responsible for ensuring her continued existence screamed just as loudly. _Just tell them already! Make it stop make it stop Make It Stop MAKE IT STOP! _

"Well, lieutenant? Going to tell us anything, perhaps? Just as a favor, you know." Damn him, being so calm.

"R… r…"

"Speak up, I can't hear you."

"R-Riza Hawke-eye, 1899-Hagh!-9902, A-amestr-trian St-stat-te Militar-AGGGHHH!" Tears were running freely from her eyes now, and she didn't even have the strength to stop them. All she could do was concentrate on that name, serial number, and affiliation drummed into her head during basic training.

"Disappointing. I suppose we will have to continue. Vasili, add another."

Another fire erupted, the screams got even louder, and even that mantra was wiped from her head by the white-hot flare. By now even her burn scars were burning. There was only one thing left besides the pain.

_Roy… _

* * *

Vikentiy mopped the floors near what all the soldiers now termed the 'danger chamber'. He wished he had ear protection as the screams penetrated the supposedly soundproof walls. The higher ups hadn't even seen him about Tier Two. His requests for an audience were met by the assertion that they were 'busy' and 'unavailable'.

One final shriek ripped through the sound insulation, and then all was quiet except for the crackle of burning flesh.

"Idiot! You went too fast! Now she's blacked out!"

"My apologies, sir!"

"Ah, no harm done. We'll continue with the bitch once she wakes up."

Vikentiy harbored no love for the woman, but that was just a little too much for him. _Okay, that's too far. Even to an enemy, that's not right. _

_I don't know if I can stand for this anymore. It's just not right. Shit, I have to do something. What to do, what to do, what to do?_

* * *

**A/N: **_Creativity/Inspiration only really kick in once I make the 2k word quota. Damn you, creativity! :) Anyways, drop me a review, a fave, a follow, whatever you want! Hey, tell me why you decided to click on this story, or why you still read it! I want to continue delivering content that you guys like!_

_Our friend Dawes will be important! I didn't put him in there for nothing! :)_

_And as always: Mash those buttons!_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **_Hello you wonderful readers! Here is the next chapter you have possibly been waiting for?_

* * *

Fort Briggs

Barracks F

1530 Hours

"No! No! Come on man! Stay with me!"

"I can't go on! Leave me!"

"NOOO!"

A handful of cards fell to the table. "Godammit! Why are you folding this early!"

"They're too good! I'm not losing anymore money today! Take my fifty and go! I'm outta here!" Corporal Akachi threw a handful of cenz at private Peña and stormed out of the barracks in disgust. Peña chuckled as he collected his winnings.

"Ah, he'll be back. He can't resist trying to win against me. Now, Ko, you wanted to deal in?" Private First Class Ko sat down, eager to play. Peña started dealing him in, then looked up at Dawes.

"Hey, sergeant. You wanna play?" Dawes shook his head ruefully.

"You know it's against regulations. I'm hanging my ass out over a fire as it is." He quickly peeked around the corner to make sure no officers were coming to break up the fun. "I have to go babysit the new people. Make sure you don't get caught." He waved goodbye, but the soldiers were too caught up in their game to notice.

Dawes strolled down the corridor, rifle on his shoulder. After the nearly disastrous training exercise, he was taking some time off from active duty. As a result, however, he got stuck with looking after the new people from Central.

"Dammit. Babysitting duty. These people probably don't know the first thing about Briggs life. What was the guy's name again? Eduard? Edgar? Fuck it, I thought I had the assignment sheet. Ah, I'll just ask." He made his way through the concrete corridors.

The condensation from the pipes dripped onto the floor, creating small puddles where it collected. Even inside Briggs the temperatures were never far above 16 degrees Celsius. His breath fogged in the air.

"Hey Dawes! Heading out?" His head came up from his musings and focused on sergeant Chikelu.

"Yeah. I've got babysitting duty for the newbies. Know where they are?"

"I think they're either on icicle duty or they're in the B Wing. Careful out there, the blizzard moved in a few hours ago. They say it gonna be parked over us for at least three weeks. Godammit, and I was just about to go on leave! Back to those Xingese comics, I guess."

After climbing a few flights of stairs and making it through a few climate-control rooms, he opened the outer door of the fortress.

A pile of snow fell from the door as a blast of frigid air greeted him. Dawes squinted against the blizzard, which, despite only having reached Fort Briggs five hours ago, was nearly at white-out level by now. He fumbled with his goggles pulling them down over his eyes and casting the world into a pinkish-peachish lighting. He pulled his hood on and pulled up a face mask, two not really regulation items but no one questioned it as almost everyone did it.

One of the advantages of looking like a faceless mook was being able to walk through the blizzard without his skin peeling off. Even so, visibility couldn't be more than 3 feet. Dawes would have a better chance of walking into his target than seeing him.

"Why does the general have them out here, anyways?! The wind will blow the icicles off before they even get to them!" Even the veteran Briggs trooper was finding it almost impossible to move across the concrete walkway. He doubted his charges were even outside. They probably took one look at the conditions, then went back into their barracks to huddle together, drink whiskey and tell stories next to a warm fire. At least there was one consolation. If he couldn't see much farther than arm's length, there was no way the Drachmans would be attacking any time soon, even after the incident in Central. He still wasn't clear on what had happened down there, anyways. He just knew that it involved the country to the north in some way. They never told the grunts anything.

"Dammit!" There was no way he would find them here. He grabbed the railing, thankful for the thick cloth gloves that kept his hands from freezing to the metal. Hand over hand, he pulled himself against the wind, all the way over to the door to B Wing. He pulled it open and practically fell through to the warmth and light inside, collapsing in a pile of snow, rifle, clothes and gasping.

"Hey! Close the door, jerkass! You're letting all the heat out!"

"Brother! Don't be so mean, he just came in from that blizzard outside!"

Dawes glared in the general direction of the voices, but pulled himself to his feet and closed the door. "What were you doing out there anyways?"

Dawes, busy dusting his clothes off, didn't look up at the person. "Oh, you know, I was just taking a nice stroll in our fine weather, admiring the scenery. What have you done today?"

"Hah, very funny. Now, what were you doing, actually?" Dawes finished brushing off his clothes and looked up. Then he did a double take and stared. In front of him stood a short, blond haired teenager with an automail arm and a massive suit of… armor? Wearing an… apron?

"Ah, you must be one of the new people. Sorry about that. Do you know where I can find…" Wrenching his eyes away from the armor, Dawes fumbled with his pockets and finally found the assignment papers. "Edward Elric? Hm, the Fullmetal Alchemist is here?"

The teenager smirked and closed his eyes in a self-satisfied sort of way. "Well, you're in luck. He's right in front of you."

Edward held out his hand to shake. When he didn't feel anything, he opened his eyes to see the stranger standing in front of Alphonse. "So you're the Fullmetal Alchemist. I have to admit, I didn't think they meant that literally. I mean, no offense but…" He looked like he was at a loss for words, gesturing at Alphonse's body.

Alphonse held up his hands, sweatdropping in anticipation of Edward's rage. "Ah, I'm sorry, I'm not the Fullmetal Alchemist. My brother Edwards is." Dawes raised an eyebrow glanced over at Edward, then looked back at Alphonse.

"The short one?"

Time stood still for a moment. The entire world seemed to hold its collective breath as Ed processed the statement, smile still on his face. Alphonse cringed internally and silently counted down. _Three… two… one… _

"_WHAATT?!_" Edward lunged towards the soldier, fully intent on giving his head a ventilation hole free of charge.

Dawes turned in surprise as the teenager sprang at him. One metal arm swung around to bash his head in. Dawes' experience and training kicked in and he reacted quickly, stepping into the attack and guiding the punch to the side. He then swept his feet out from under him and flipped the midget onto his back.

"Agh!" Edward gasped as air evacuated his lungs. "Wha… what?"

"Are you sure he's the one?" He twisted his head around to see the man still standing there, talking to Alphonse as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Yeah… sorry about that. He's sensitive about his, um, stature."

"Yes, I can tell. Well, anyways, I'm supposed to be your guide around these parts so… nice to meet you?" Alphonse sagged in relief that the man didn't resent Edward.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr…. uh, sorry, I didn't quite catch your name." Dawes smiled and held out his hand, ignoring a spluttering, indignant Edward.

"Sergeant Anthony Dawes, at your service."

* * *

Facility Gamma

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

1800 Hours

Vikentiy checked into Armory A, handing his ID to the quartermaster through the steel mesh. In return, the man opened the sliding metal door, usually locked from the inside.

He walked in and the door closed behind him. A quick survey found where the spare ammo was kept. Vikentiy found the .30-06 locker and pulled it open. He grabbed six fresh magazines and loose ammo to refill those already on him.

On his way out a few grenades went into his pack, as did a breaching charge and a submachine gun. He recorded the items on a form and handed it to the quartermaster, who then let him out of the armory.

He'd planned this out in the barracks the night before. It was more complicated and hinged on luck more than he liked, but there was little choice. This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, after all.

He walked down the hall, towards the pumping room where he knew almost no one was at the moment. It was lunch time, after all. Only the unfortunate and unfavored got pump room duty at this time. He'd eaten his food quickly to get this opportunity, telling everyone he had to collect fresh ammo. Which was true. The quartermaster could support that alibi.

His steps echoed off the concrete walls. He could faintly hear the laughter and talking coming from the cafeteria. The others would most likely be just starting to eat their food right now. The portions were big, and there was plenty of chatter to go around before eating actually began. He licked his lips at the memory of shchi, kotlety, potatoes and coffee. The pay might be shitty, the duty miserable, but the army made sure to feed its soldiers well.

He took a quick look around the immediate area, checking that no one else had finished early. Vikentiy then twisted open the locking wheel on the pump room door, trusting the horrendous noise inside the room to keep anyone from noticing him. Much was riding on his alibi being airtight. He winced as the hinges squeaked, but nobody came to investigate. He pulled up a face mask to keep the smell away.

"Alright. There should be at least one or two people in here. Probably in the control booth and the central junction, if anywhere." He didn't know why he was whispering. Nobody would have heard him even if he shouted. People needed radios and headphones to communicate when all the machinery was running.

He threaded his way through the massive pumps and pipes, careful to avoid the wet spots on the floor. Sloppy maintenance, he thought, though he had no right to be criticizing others for dereliction of duty.

Like most Drachman army installations, the directions were clearly marked. The control booth would be up that ladder and left across that catwalk. Now all he had to do was to get there unseen and-

"Hey! What are you doing here?" And, like most plans, his went down the drains, through the sewers, and out to the ocean, where it was promptly chewed up by sharks and became fertilizer.

Vikentiy turned to a time-honored technique passed down throughout the ages, a technique renowned for its elegance and efficacy. He began to spout bullshit as fast as possible while getting closer to the other guy.

"Oh, hi, I was sent to figure out why the hot water to bathroom A is turned off." He adopted a thick accent. "My buddies got a surprise when the water suddenly turned cold, and they were kind of pissed. I managed to talk them down, but they really want hot showers again. So, could you please check?"

The soldier started backing up defensively. "What? What are you talking about? The water flow hasn't been cut off. I checked yesterday! You're not making sense!" He raised his hands in an unconscious attempt to ward Vikentiy off.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I just want to check the pipes, see if there isn't a blockage or something. I don't know how these things work."

"You know I'm not allowed to do that! You aren't even supposed to be in here!"

He held his hands up, making himself seem less threatening. "Just show me the stuff, and I'll be gone. I know you don't even want to be in here. What'd you do to get stuck here?"

"Th-that doesn't matter!"

"Your CO must be a huge dick, huh? I sympathize with you. You probably don't even want to take orders from him, huh?"

That seemed to sway the soldier, who really just wanted this strange guy spouting nonsense to be gone. He had enough to deal with already, what with being stuck in the pump room for failing uniform inspection.

"Alright man, this way. But just this once! And then get the hell out of here. I have a job to do." He turned and beckoned for Vikentiy to follow him. They made their way through another complicated series of pipes before coming to a row of gauges and dials. "See? I told you nothing was-"

He never finished that sentence. Having one's head slammed into a thick piece of metal tends to do that to sentences. Vikentiy checked to be sure that the guy wasn't too hurt. It wouldn't do if he couldn't tell everybody about the masked man who'd knocked him out.

He walked out of the pump room, making sure nobody was around. Lunch was still going on, so there probably wouldn't be anybody. One can never be too sure, though.

All there was to do now was to head back to the barracks and act casual. And wait. Shouldn't be too hard, right?

* * *

Fort Briggs

Amestris-Drachma Border

2000 Hours

"The R&amp;D department wants more funding? Tell them as soon as they produce results that I can show to the high council, I can get them funding. Until then my hands are tied and they aren't getting jackshit." General Armstrong slammed down the phone and rubbed her temples. Her R&amp;D team was brilliant, but they didn't understand anything about military funding protocols.

"Sir, we have the latest report from our scout teams. They reported increased activity at one of the Drachman border outposts before getting cut off by the storm." The soldier handed her the folder, then stood stiffly.

"Dismissed." He saluted, then spun on his heel and marched out of the room, closing the door behind him. Armstrong growled and tossed the report to the side. Increased activity meant an increased alert level here in the fortress, mandated by regulations. It would also eat up money like a Xingese immigrant. "When I made general, I didn't anticipate financial concerns to be at the top of my list."

Fort Briggs ran on a shoestring. It wasn't apparent, but the bean counters kept slashing the budget to the bare minimum. With the fort so good at keeping out threats, why did it need so much money?

Armstrong knew the true cost. There were gaps in the defenses everywhere. Maintenance was lacking in several areas. Research had ground to a halt. That last training exercise ate up the last of the discretionary spending budget this year. Based on what her contacts were telling her, all that spare money was being routed to Central, probably to pad the wallets of those incompetents on the high council.

Still, she still had her veteran core of hardened soldiers. They would be able to take up the slack from the relatively untrained new soldiers. That is, until, she managed to threaten the high council into providing more money.

* * *

Facility Gamma

Amestris Drachma Border

1930 Hours

The facility was in lockdown. A soldier had been found lying unconscious in the pumping room. When he was woken up, he told a tale of being attacked by a man wearing a mask with a thick accent. Two minutes later the facility was going into full alert.

"Move, sergeant!" Vikentiy picked up the pace, running along with two other men. They rounded several corners, running towards their muster areas, when Vikentiy "tripped".

"Ah, shit!" He tumbled to the floor. The two others tried to help him, but he waved them off. "I'll be fine, go, go!" They nodded and ran off. Vikentiy smirked. Just as planned.

He got up and ran down the corridor, but took a left instead of going straight to his station. Soon he came upon a locked steel door. He quickly defeated it with the keys in his possession. Of course, nobody was around to see him do it. They were all doing their duty, getting to their positions. He was too, just with a small detour.

Inside the room, he looked down on the battered, burned, barely breathing woman sprawled out on the floor. For a moment, he contemplated his knife. It would be so easy just to slit her wrist or throat, let the others think she cut herself by accident.

She turned her head to look at him, staring with uncaring eyes. She was beyond anything like caring. "You spared me. I spare you."

With a clang, the lock fell to the floor. He pulled back the door, and left a bottle of water and a pistol next to her. "Find your own ride home."

* * *

**A/N: **_And cut! Remember to leave a follow, fave, or review! Tell me why you read my stories! Thank you for reading and let me know what I can do to improve!_

_Mash those buttons!_


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **_Hello, you beautiful readers! Thanks for the response to the previous chapter! I'm shot for ideas at the moment, so send me a prompt or two. I'll see what I can make of it._

* * *

Facility Gamma

Amestris-Drachma Border

1937 Hours

The man leaned down, cut the bindings around her wrists and ankles, and left. Riza stared at the pistol for a while after that. The burns on her back throbbed, a deep, pulsing pain.

Slowly, her mind clawed its way back to reality. A spark of hope, previously all but extinguished, came back to life. She put her hands against the floor and pushed. Sweat beaded on her face and she grit her teeth as the burns and various other assorted wounds made their presence known as well. Her body resisted any change made to its present position, but her mind told it to _move move move!_

Riza pushed herself up on to her hands and knees, then managed to bring her right leg forward into a kneeling position. She remained there for a little bit, trying to let the pain subside a bit and wiping the sweat off her face. When most of her injuries had ceased hurting, going from agony to simply searing, she reached forward and took the pistol. She let it settle into her hand, feeling its weight and balance. It wasn't hers, but it was a gun. She'd take it.

She eased her way into a crouching position, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet. Riza spied the bottle of water and grabbed for it. Almost a third of the liquid went down her throat before she remembered to breath. Warm though it was, it was hard to care after weeks of food and water deprivation.

She wiped her mouth off and enjoyed the sensation of water moistening her parched throat. The liquid helped revive her a bit more, bringing her alertness and higher thought processes back online. It even dulled the pain a little bit, if only in her head.

She drank slowly now, so as not to let the sudden influx of water overwhelm her body. It was tempting to pour it down her back, so as to soothe the burns a bit, but for all she knew it would just make them worse. She resisted the temptation. Riza took advantage of her time, planning out an escape.

She'd have to procure some cold weather equipment. That would be easily done. The sentry had left his coat on the chair when the alarm sounded, too hurried to put it back on. The hat was there too. The combination of the two would probably buy her a few extra seconds as other soldiers tried to determine whether or not she was friend or foe.

From what she remembered of world geography, courtesy of some mandatory academy classes, the land between Amestris and Drachma was a featureless wasteland, a few forests, and more featureless wasteland. The peaks of the Briggs mountain range created an impenetrable border. There was no getting around them, excluding backtracking deeper into Drachman territory.

"I need a vehicle." Riza spoke to herself, mostly to assure herself that she could still produce sounds consisting of things other than screaming. Her voice cracked. The water still hadn't fully revived her vocal chords. "A map and a compass." A compass was no use without a map, and vice versa as well. Without either, she would be driving in circles.

The last of the water disappeared from the bottle. Riza tossed it aside and ejected the magazine of the pistol. She held it up to her eyes, turning it at various angles to check for defects or anything that would keep the gun from firing. Hate the fact though she might, Riza had to admit that the Drachmans made their guns well. The quality of workmanship on the magazine was better than many Amestrian ones she'd seen.

Riza slapped the magazine back in and racked back the slide, slowly. The familiar motion finally brought her mind fully to the present and into combat mode, as well as sending more redundant alerts to her brain that something was seriously wrong with her back. Supporting herself with the concrete wall, she stood up, wincing at every twinge, joint crack, and stab of pain.

Her mysterious benefactor had been so kind as to close the main door behind him, affording her some privacy. She pushed aside the cell door; leaned on it, really, as her arm could not muster the strength to move the heavy bars. Riza put on the coat and hat, recoiling slightly when the smell of unwashed soldier hit her nose.

She patted down the coat, finding a couple more magazines and a grenade tucked into its pockets. A lighter and cigarettes too. A memory of Havoc laughing, cigarette between his fingers and lighter beside him, sitting at his desk in a sunny office. A sad smile graced her features at the memory.

Riza readied the gun and prepared to step out into the corridor. One way or another, she'd be seeing her team again. Just imagining the look on Roy's face would be all the motivation she'd need.

* * *

Facility Gamma

Amestris-Drachma Border

1945 Hours

When his day started, private Alexiy Dragovich did not expect the alarms to sound. Nor did he expect them to sound while he was in the bathroom. Finishing up, he sprinted to his muster station, frantically adjusting his uniform, pulling on his helmet, and unslinging his rifle. So distracted was he that he failed to notice the leg sticking out into the corridor in front of him.

"Waagh!" The rifle went flying, sliding several meters down the corridor. Alexiy went sprawling face first, grunting as the air went out of him. Before he could get back up and see what tripped him, a knee pressed into the small of his back. His eyes widened, and he tried to turn his head around to see who it was. That option was taken away when a hand pushed his face further into the ground and a pistol was placed against the back of his head.

"Don't move." A female voice? But there weren't any women on base, except for the prisoner…

He felt a hand searching through his uniform coat and pack, taking out all the ammunition, weapons, and everything else in his pockets. There went his regulation compass, binoculars, mapbook, codebook, ration packs and canteen. "Where is the vehicle bay?"

"Hmmph!" He grunted a response into the floor. His attacker let out an exasperated sigh and turned his head to the side, pistol still against his temple. "Identify yourself! You are trespassing on official property and have assaulted a Drachman soldier!" He shouted the first thing that came to mind, the phrase drilled into his head by endless hours of political doctrine and protocol briefings.

She leaned down and hissed in his ear. "You aren't in a position to argue. Keep the noise down and don't try anything." He felt his knife, pistol and grenades disappear as well, the utility belt holding them tossed a safe distance away. If he could just stall a little bit more, his CO would notice his absence and send a search party. And then…

He blustered, trying to gain time. "I'm not telling you anything! You… you aren't getting away with this!"

"Shut up." Alexiy reacquainted his face with the concrete. Above him, Riza quickly ran through all the half-assed 5-minute contingency plans her frankly not-quite-all-in-there mind had developed for a situation such as this one. She discarded most of them as soon as she thought of them. _No… no… I don't even have that with me, what was I thinking?... no… of course not… ah! _"Stay down, don't make a noise." She reached behind her, groping around for the discarded utility belt. After a few seconds of blind searching, Riza grasped the leather strap and pulled it towards her. She quickly found the handle of a knife, yanked it out of its pocket, and held it beside the man's head. "You know what this is, don't you?"

Alexiy began sweating. This crazy bitch was actually going to kill him! "I-I don't know what you mean-"

"Talk. Now." His head was suddenly yanked up, the blade of the knife at his throat. Alexiy's continued existence suddenly seemed very much uncertain.

Now, Alexiy wasn't a coward. He might have been drafted from a small town out in the ass-end of the tundra, the ass-end of a region considered the ass-end of a country considered the ass-end of the world, but that didn't mean he wasn't patriotic. As a matter of fact, he was extremely grateful to the army for getting him out of that frozen wasteland. Growing up and surviving out there also meant that he had no small amount of badassery available to him. He could no doubt ensure that his attacker died in a brutal and graphic fashion.

There was one small problem with that plan, however. It had to do with the sharpened piece of tempered stainless steel occupying the space near his jugular. You see, if he tried to turn the tables on the woman, she would certainly die. But he would too, and Alexiy had no desire to become a posthumous Hero of the Drachman people. The shiny gold medal would be nice, as would the extra compensation paid to his family, but he wanted to be around to enjoy it as well.

The words spilled out of his mouth. "It's that way! Near the main hall! The really big door! Please don't kill me…" He gestured with his chin, trying not to let the knife poke into his throat.

Riza pressed the knife a little harder into his neck. A small trail of blood ran down. "Are you lying to me? I don't appreciate being lied to, especially not now."

"No! It's true! Really, I swear!" The tone of voice was just desperate enough that Riza could believe it. She withdrew the knife, grabbed the back of his head, and drove it into the ground.

"Gah!" He definitely wasn't expecting that. By the time his head stopped bouncing, he was out cold facedown on the floor. Riza took her knee off his back and stood up, stretching out a few muscle kinks. She held up her pistol and prepared to move, but a thought occurred to her. She reached down and picked up the utility belt, wrapping it around her own waist. It wouldn't hurt to have another piece of the costume, and the extra supplies it carried would be welcome. She finished adjusting the strap, drew her pistol, and moved out, supporting herself with the wall.

* * *

Main Hall

Facility Gamma

Amestris-Drachma Border

2005 Hours

A group of soldiers milled about inside the hall. The air was filled with lighthearted chatter, but underneath the surface there was tension thick enough to cut with a dull butter knife.

Near one door, a corporal and his group of men were trying to figure out exactly what the hell was happening. Nobody had come on the PA to brief the troops, nobody had come to them to give them orders. The only officers they'd seen were, at the most, lieutenants just as clueless if not more so.

"Hey, bet you fifty rubles that this is just a false alarm."

"I'll take that bet and raise you a hundred." The two shook on the deal and gave their money to a third soldier to hold. The corporal looked over disapprovingly but otherwise did nothing about it. In fact, he himself had 150 rubles riding on it being a false alarm, not that he would let anyone know. Looking around, he thought he saw something outside the door in the hallway. Upon closer inspection though, there was nothing.

Riza whipped her head back around the doorway, heart pounding. She regretted taking a peak. If her escape plan seemed difficult to pull off before, it was downright impossible now. "Okay, think." She checked the options available to her. Grenades, pistol, and alchemy. The knife didn't count because, as far as options went, it was suicidal. Grenades? Maybe, but she only had three and the number of bodies in the room might absorb all the shrapnel before they could take everyone out. After that, she'd have to use her pistol. 28 rounds of 9mm versus a group of pissed off soldiers armed with rifles and submachine guns? The Academy taught Riza how to evaluate the odds of a situation and she did not like this one.

The only viable option left to her was alchemy, and she didn't think she had the strength to pull off something large enough to be useful. Her lungs and muscles burned just from the 60 meters she'd walked to get to this point. All the way Riza had felt certain that someone must have heard her labored breathing and would be coming to investigate. And at that point, with her body still in terrible shape, she would die an ignominious and anticlimactic death.

She shifted position unconsciously, easing up the pressure on her back. Those burns were going to take quite a while to heal. In fact, they still hurt like hell. The adrenaline still circulating in her bloodstream would let her ignore them for a little while longer, but she needed medical care before they became incapacitating.

If a transmutation was to work, it was going to have to be big and flashy. Riza wanted to avoid killing anyone if possible.

"And who are you?" Her head whipped around. She almost sprang backwards, but caught herself when she realized doing so would have meant leaving her cover. Her heart pounded as she stared at the newcomer pointing a shotgun at her. "I said, who might you be?"

Riza couldn't answer. Her body had frozen up; she couldn't believe it was all about to end here. Had all her efforts been for nothing?

"Hold on a second." The stranger leaned in closer and got a good look at her face. "Holy shit. You're the prisoner!" Riza squeezed her eyes shut and anticipated a shotgun blast to the face at any moment.

"Dammit. Come with me! Quietly!" _Huh? _Before she could respond, the man took hold of her arm, yanked her to her feet, and was dragging her down the corridor. Riza gasped in pain as the movement strained her injuries.

"In here!" He threw open a door, pushed her in, came in himself and locked it behind him. "God! What are you thinking, trying to take on a room full of enemies? Has our training really degraded that much in 3 years?"

"What? Wh-who are you?" Unconsciously, her hand began to stray towards the knife on her utility belt.

"I see your knife. Don't think I don't." The man seemed distracted as he spoke, as if the weapon was barely worth his attention. He ran his hands through his hair, eyes flicking back and forth but staring at nothing. If there were enough space in the tiny broom closet Riza felt sure that he would be pacing.

"Shit. Shit. Alright. So. Here's the deal. You just messed up all my plans. Goddammit. It's okay, I can still salvage something from this." He turned and pressed his ear to the door, listening intently. "Okay. Hallway's clear. Look, I know you've been through hell, but you need to listen to me right now."

"Wait." He turned around in exasperation.

"Now wha-" A pistol aimed directly at his forehead.

"Answers. Now. Before I trust anything you say." He sighed and lifted an eyebrow, as if to say 'really?'

"Seriously? You're going to do this now? Alright, here's the thirty second version. Petrov, Dimitri, PD1992034, AMI. Got it?"

"Petrov?" Riza thought for a second, pistol still pointed at his head. "Where have I heard that name before?"

He looked confused for a second, then nodded in realization. "You might have heard the soldiers talking about me. Said I seemed like a spook?"

"Yes. You're a spy?"

"I'm AMI." He said in a voice that sounded like he'd said this a thousand times before. "Being spook like is our business. Now, are you going to take that pistol away or what?" Realizing where her hand was, Riza quickly lowered the gun, blushing a bit with embarrassment. "Good. Now, listen up."

"You just blew my escape plan. I was going to hijack one of those trucks and get back to the border. You're going to slow me down. You probably will get me killed. You most likely will die." He sighed and rubbed his temples, as if what he was about to say pained him. "However, mission directives direct me to assist any Amestrian personnel I might come across. Military intelligence. Hah. That's a damn good oxymoron." He motioned towards her pistol.

"You're not too hurt to use that, are you?" Riza shook her head, still a little bewildered by the speed of events and a little insulted by the man implying she was currently useless. Still, her odds of living were better working with him and he hadn't tried to kill or torture her yet. She'd play along.

"So what should I do?"

"Run in there and absorb all the bullets. While they reload, I'll make my escape." She stared at him. "No, not really. I was planning on just walking through there with this uniform. But, now that you're with me, we have more than a few grenades between us. Stealth's not possible anymore, but explosions are." He paused as a pair of footsteps passed by. "That's the first patrol. They'll be combing through the entire base soon. We need to move quickly before someone checks in here." He held up a finger and listened to the door for another minute or so, letting another pair go by.

"Ready?"

"I guess?"

* * *

Sometimes the end comes quietly. Sometimes it advertises itself. In this case the end came with the soft _ping _of pins being pulled from grenades.

The soldiers gathering for a sweep patrol barely had time to look down and choose which curse words to use. They were then promptly shredded by shrapnel. Their bodies absorbed and slowed the flying metal projectiles, allowing those behind them to escape lightly wounded.

They didn't last long, though. A shotgun blast tore into one, while pistol fire downed another and wounded one.

Getting their act together, the survivors dove behind cover, firing blindly at the doorway and filling the air with smell of cordite and the sound of tinkling shell casings. Unfortunately for them, their onetime comrade Dimitri Petrov, Amestrian Military Intelligence deep cover operative, knew how to drop and crawl.

He made his way over to a couple of supply crates, crouching behind them while bullets pockmarked the wall. When the hail of lead subsided, leaving a gunpowder stench in the air while the remaining soldiers reloaded, he popped out of cover, hurled another grenade, and motioned for Riza to join him.

"We need to clear them out before the rest of the patrols get back here. Someone will have heard the explosions and gunshots so they'll be here soon." He motioned to a crate partway across the room. "Get over there. Now."

Riza was in no position to question his commands. He knew the place better, the people better, and probably knew which tactics to use here. Also, her brain was now being re-clouded by adrenaline rush, fatigue, and pain. He was thinking clearly.

She got up and ran over to the box. Halfway she started drawing fire. Her energy-deprived mind decided bullets were bad and dove the last few meters. Petrov took the opportunity to blow away the last few defenders, who stood up in order to aim.

"Sorry. Somebody had to draw fire, and it wasn't going to be me." He ran by her and pulled open the door to the vehicle bay. Before going through, he looked back at her, huddling behind a box, and frowned. "Well? Aren't you coming?"

"Right. One second." She growled with the pain and clutched the burn on her left shoulder. That was going to ruin her aim. "Coming."

They found themselves in the wide open spaces of the vehicle bay. A blast of cold air greeted them, mostly unfelt because of the thick coats they had on. Nobody was present and guarding the vehicles; they were all gone to their muster stations.

Petrov pulled open the door to a truck, got in, and started hotwiring it, muttering to himself the whole time. Riza sat down on the running board, unsure of what to do. She checked her weapons and ignored the her injuries, helped by the fact that the her face was freezing off, allowing her to ignore everything else.

"Hey! Over here! They're with the vehicles!"

"Ah, shit. Hold them off!" Petrov slammed the door shut to give himself more cover, leaving Riza to hold off the hoard.

"What?! Hey!" He was already gone, under the dashboard twisting wires together. Riza jumped off the running board and ran to the doorway, just in time to avoid being shot. "Dammit!"

She reached one hand around the doorway to fire a few shots from her pistol. "Not even nice enough to pass me the shotgun, huh?" Riza tried to aim, but with one hand gripping her shoulder she found the task rather difficult. "Gah, I can't do anything!"

The bullets pouring in from the door struck anything and everything. A bottle of vodka, a box of spare parts, a stack of tires, they were all perforated. Riza barely noticed, understandable seeing as how busy she was trying not to die.

"Hey! I said hold them off! I can't do my job while this truck is getting shot up!" Riza glared in the direction of the voice, whose owner she'd decided was an asshole. She backed up further from the door, bumping into a vodka bottle standing on a shelf.

"Hold on." There was vodka. Vodka was liquid. She could draw with liquid. A wry smile emerged on her face. Now she had options, undignified though drawing with alcohol might be. She popped open the bottle and got to work, ignoring the fact that alcohol was covering her hands.

Petrov finished up the last wiring just as blue lightning lit up the vehicle pool. "What the shit?!" He pulled out from under the dashboard, and peered out the windshield. Where there had been a doorway previously, there was now a solid rock wall. "What the shit?"

He heard a voice from the back of the truck. "Drive! Drive! Drive!" He pulled open the flap in the back of the driver's cabin. There sat the woman, clutching a badly burned hand and shouting at him to get going.

"The hell?" Petrov didn't argue with her. He slammed the stick into reverse, hit the gas, and blew out of the room and into the snow outside. The wheels spun, snow flew into the air, and he sped off, finally heading back to Amestris.

* * *

**A/N: **_Thank you for reading this! Somehow this chapter spiraled into a 3k+ word montrosity. As always, constructive criticism please! If you liked, drop a follow, fave, or review! For all of you who've already done so, here's a cookie._

_Mash those buttons!_


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **_Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. I swear, I add one word to this in post-post editing, and word count goes from 2552 to 2638. _

* * *

DMZ

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0200 Hours

The woman had passed out about 15 miles back. Petrov tried not to bounce the truck around too much. He wouldn't be driving much longer anyways. The gas gauge had redlined half a mile ago, and he was currently driving on fumes, luck, prayer and momentum. Not necessarily in that order.

Even with the pedal nearly floored, Petrov trying to coax every last bit of distance out of the tank, the engine inevitably spluttered, coughed, and died. "Ah, shit."

The truck wasn't going anywhere else. He managed to coast it over to a small snow drift and park it. He felt confident that nobody would be finding it, hidden behind the snow as it was. Petrov pulled on a pair of woolen gloves, rubbed his hands together, then pushed open the door.

"Fuck!" The blizzard slapped him in the face. The weather reports had mentioned a blizzard, but he had no idea! "Fuck this!" He pulled the door shut, shaking off the snow that had accumulated on him. "I'm never going to be able to make it back to Briggs!"

Petrov made a move to turn on the truck's heater. He smacked the button a couple of times, but quickly gave up once he realized that no gas meant no heat. "Damn." No gas, no heat, no way to move through the snow on foot. They were stuck. "I hope the patrols are out today."

* * *

DMZ

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0300 Hours

The balaclava was necessary, but he wished it didn't feel so damn restrictive. Dawes tugged at the cloth, trying to get it not to be so tight to no avail. He looked back at the small group following him.

Fullmetal seemed to be stuck in the snow. His brother the armor was trying to pull him out, along with the blond lieutenant. "Brother! Why are you so heavy?!"

"It's not me, it's the snow! It's grabbing my leg!"

"Dammit, this isn't working! I thought your new leg was supposed to be lighter?!"

"I just said it's the snow!"

"Can you three keep it down?" Dawes didn't bother to look back. He stared through his goggles at a green-tinted world, searching for any sign of Drachman intrusion. Private First Class Jaeger crouched beside him, behind a small boulder, radio set on his back. They both held standard issue SKS 18 rifles, Jaeger equipped with a grenade launcher.

"See anything?" Jaeger shook his head. Binoculars hung around his neck, but they were completely useless in the blizzard. As it was, they were communicating through radio headsets, the storm's howl and every other noise silenced by thick cloth.

It felt oddly peaceful, though. The white snow blanketed everything, muffling all the noise and conferring a sense of stillness on everything. It was as if the world was frozen, all motion suspended for the duration of the storm.

"One, two, three, pull!"

The stillness was shattered when a body hit him from behind. "What the- shit!" He went down in a pile of tangled limbs and bruised dignity.

"I'm free! I'm free! Praise the- oh, sorry." Havoc pulled himself up using a tree branch.

"Don't worry about it. Hey, where'd Dawes go?" He looked around, searching for the missing sergeant. Havoc thought he might have crashed into him.

From behind him, out of a small snowdrift, came a muffled "Right here, asshole." Havoc whipped his head around, searching for the source of the voice. _Nothing… nothing… _"Try down here." A gloved hand poked up from beneath the snow, waving around.

"Oh shit. Hey, help me out here!" Edward and Alphonse finished dusting themselves off and looked over at Havoc, who was now attempting to pull Dawes out of the snow.

"Aw, don't tell me he got stuck too?" They trudged over, Edward taking hold of Dawes' other hand and Alphonse grabbing his leg. "How'd he end up like this anyways?"

As an irate sergeant and a flustered lieutenant attempted to explain the situation, PFC Jaeger ignored the drama, choosing to focus on the mission. The storm limited visibility to only about a couple of yards in front of him. He'd complained about the weapon assignments, wanting a shotgun, or a smg, or, hell, even a carbine, but nope, they got stuck with these good for nothing rifles.

The radio set on his back acted as a relay for his team's transmissions, allowing everyone to tune in to everyone else and letting CP back at Briggs also tune in. "Come on! Pull!" Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't mute anybody.

Luckily for him, Jaeger was experienced in the art of being the radioman. He tuned out the cursing and grunting, instead letting his world shrink to what he could see through his sights. His rifle moved from left to right and back again, scanning, waiting for his comrades to finish so they could complete the patrol and get back to where it was warm.

"Zulu 6, this is CP. What's going on down there, over?" Jaeger shook himself out of his own little world.

"CP, this is Zulu 6. We ran into some trouble on our patrol. Sergeant Major Dawes got stuck in a snowdrift. We're getting him out now, over." Jaeger snuck a peek at the progress of the recovery efforts. The sergeant was mostly out of the snow, with only one boot still stuck in the muddy underlayer.

"One, two, three, pull!" With a final pull, the small group went down in a pile of bodies. Alphonse managed to position himself on the bottom and with his spikes facing downwards.

"CP, this is Zulu 6. Sergeant Major Dawes is now free. Resuming patrol, over."

"Zulu 6, this is CP. Acknowledged. Be careful out there. If the storm gets too bad, use your own judgement and return to base, out." Jaeger clicked his mic and waved to his team.

"Come on, let's go. This blizzards gonna get worse before it gets better, and I want to be in my bunk before that happens."

* * *

DMZ

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0430 Hours

"Zulu 6, this is CP. We're getting some error reports from one of the trip sensors. A cable's broken somewhere in grid A9. You're patrol's the closest in the area, find the break and fix it. We'll get you a more specific location soon. CP, out."

"Got it, CP. Zulu 6, out." Dawes signed off on the mic and turned to his less than merry men. They'd all heard the radio, and were now looking glumly at each other. The prospect of spending even more time battling through snow and wind to repair a broken wire did nothing for their spirits. Dawes decided not to let them dwell on it.

"You heard the man, let's move, double time!" They forged a path through the storm, footsteps muffled by the carpet of white. After they lifted their feet, the footprints left behind were quickly concealed by the shifting snow, nature obliterating the marks of man.

Despite the calm and quiet, everyone was on edge. The blizzard made for wonderful cover, a Drachman black-ops operative's wet dream. They would gladly exploit this opportunity to take out a patrol here, a sensor there, and then sneak through to Briggs. A breaching charge on a door, and they'd be inside. Once in, a few well placed satchel charges and Briggs would be out of commission, or at least severely compromised. Off the top of his head Dawes could name at least three areas any half-competent soldier could sneak into.

"Zulu 6, this is CP. We've got a better fix on the location of the break, it's between junctions 4 and 5. Sensor 4's down. Slap a patch on that thing and mark the exact position on your map. We'll get a full team to repair the breach once you RTB."

"Got it. Zulu 6, out. Havoc, get that patch kit ready!"

"Okay, okay, no need to shout, I can hear you just fine!" Havoc swung his pack around to the front and rummaged through it for the patch kit. He found it, a bag containing a roll of duct tape, glue, a few self-firing chemical welding rigs, extra insulation, high grade cable, and a tool kit.

"If it's really a cut line, we only need the cable, welder, and insulation. Leave the rest in." Havoc complied, handing his pack over to Edward as he clipped the supplies onto his web gear.

"Squared away, let's go." Over the course of several minutes, with many map and compass consultations, and more than one backtrack, the group found junction 4, so named because of the multiple lines that fed into it. Dawes knew the other sensors would be serviced by the other junctions as well, providing redundancy. Unfortunately, thanks to bureaucracy design SNAFUs, the only junction servicing sensor 4 happened to be junction 4.

Finally, they located the break. A small tree, felled by the storm, had fallen across the cable, neatly severing it. "Jaeger, on station. Havoc, you too."

"Yes, sergeant. Lieutenant, give me a hand with this tree." Together, Jaeger and Havoc lifted the tree off the wire and hauled it some distance away. Jaeger then took the spare cable and insulation. He first put the insulation around the metal, making sure to leave a bit sticking out at the ends. He then wrapped the remaining material around the snapped section and slapped on two welding rigs. "Firing!"

The rigs were of a simple design, incorporating small thermite charges activated by a time-delayed magnesium sparkler. After three seconds, the magnesium would ignite the thermite and produce a brief burst of extremely localized intense heat. The rigs were used in everything from battlefield spot-weld repairs to sealing shut gun breaches.

After the light died down and the reaction fizzled out, Jaeger walked back over to check on the repairs. To his dismay, however, the welding had not taken.

"Godammit! I knew I should have left more on the ends! Fuck!" Jaeger gazed despondently at the disgusting melted mess of wire and rubber. He could see his rec time melting away along with the snow.

"Ahem. Allow me to help." Jaeger turned and saw the younger Elric approaching - what was his name? Edgar?

"By all means. As long as it gets me back in my bunk." Edward grinned and rubbed his hands together.

"Excellent. Now, watch how the master does it!" Jaeger managed to step back just in time to avoid the sparks that flew from where Edward's hands clapped together. Edward slapped his hands to the puddle, then immediately brought his elbow up in front of his nose. "Dammit, that stinks!"

The transmutation did the trick, though, and the wire fused itself back together. Rubber re-wrapped itself around the cable, and current flowed once more.

"Zulu 6, this is CP! Nice work, we're getting readings again! Looks like… hold on… ah, fuck!" The radio went silent.

"CP?! CP, come in!" There was no response for a few seconds.

"Dammit! I-" Coughing came from the command post's end of the transmission. "Zulu 6, whatever you did, it just shorted the system. We got some cached data, but the sensor banks are blown. We'll have to- fuck, get an extinguisher on that already! I don't want to put on a mask! We have to get an engineering team down there soon. Standby out there! CP, out! Put that out alrea-" The radio clicked off. As soon as it did, all present turned to look at Edward.

"Brother? What did you do?" Edward grinned nervously.

"I might have used… too much energy for too little material. Sorry?" They simply stared.

After a little while, CP got back to them, having put out the electrical fire and ventilated the room.

"Zulu 6, this is CP! We've got one more thing we want you to check out before you come back in. Some of the cached data we received before the instruments blew indicated that sensor 4 got tripped. Get over there, out."

Edward mimed the speech of the CP administrator. "'Get over there, out.' Come on! Is it really so important _we _have to check it out?!"

* * *

DMZ

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0630 Hours

"Come on, why haven't they found us yet? Please don't tell me that patrols were cancelled today…"

His passenger in the back wasn't doing too well. Petrov had checked on her a few times. The first time he'd tried to shake her awake she'd responded, but now she was completely comatose. Yelling in her ear barely caused her to stir.

He'd found a spare jacket and put it over her, but the combination of cold, fatigue, and severe injuries was fast taking its toll.

"I have one flare… hope I don't have to use it." The snow was piled halfway up the truck by now. Even if the tank had anything in it, the vehicle wasn't going anywhere. "Damn near white-out out there. Flare's not gonna be any use."

The near white-out conditions were why he did not hear the footsteps.

"Shit! I recognize this make, it's Drachman! I'll be damned, CP was right about something being out here." Dawes and Jaeger approached the vehicle cautiously, with the Elrics and Havoc not far behind.

"Jaeger, get around front. If there's a driver, don't let'em see you. I'll go around the other side. Havoc, cover the back. Elrics, just… just stay out of the way." The soldiers nodded confirmation while the Elrics spluttered in protest.

Trying his best not to doze off, Petrov nearly suffered a heart attack when a rifle appeared out of nowhere, pointed at his face. As it was, he fell off his chair.

"Freeze!"

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" The balaclava wearing face was not amused.

"Out of the car, on the ground!"

"Guys, can we please just do hands in the air? I really don't want my face in the snow."

"I said on the ground! Identify yourself!"

"Okay, okay, fine." Petrov got out of the truck and lay facedown on the ground. He could tell from the accent this guy was Amestrian, but the hard part would be convincing him that Petrov was an ally. "My ID's in my back pocket. You can check for yourself, but I'm on your side."

One of the man's friends came around to keep at least one gun pointed at Petrov. The first one then circled around to the back and took out Petrov's ID.

"Get this guy on his feet and cuff him. We'll verify him back at Briggs." The man's buddy nodded and slapped a zip tie onto his wrists.

"Oh, one last thing. I've got a friend in the back you should probably check on, make sure she isn't dead." The two men stared at him for a bit then the taller one, probably the senior man present, raised a hand to his headset.

"Havoc, go check out the back. Apparently our friend's got a passenger with him." There was an awkward silence for several seconds, presumably while 'Havoc' was looking in the rear. Then came a shout so loud both men ripped their headsets from their ears. Petrov managed to catch the words that caused such pain.

"Riza?!"

* * *

**A/N: **_All hail the rebirth of the shitty chapter!_


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **_Jesus Christ, school op plz nerf._

* * *

Facility Gamma

B Wing Infirmary

Recuperation Wing

0700 Hours

Romanovich strolled among the wounded. He paused to salute those soldiers who could sit up, and had quiet conversations with those more badly hurt.

"Lieutenant, when are we heading back out?"

"Sir, do you know who hit us?"

"Just give me a weapon, sir, I'm ready to get out there and fuck up whoever did this!"

Romanovich wished dearly that he could answer their questions, but he didn't know anymore than they did. He'd been off at his muster station when the fight occurred, only arriving on scene after the attackers had escaped and only bodies were left.

He did have his suspicions, though. Private Petrov still hadn't shown up, and Romanovich's gut told him that he likely never would. He was starting to regret very much not executing the prisoner when he had the chance.

"Lieutenant! Wait up!" Startled out of his thoughts, Romanovich whirled around. Behind him was a private, panting with his hands on his knees.

"Yes, private?"

"Sir… colonel… Volkov… wanted to see… you… sir!" The man had obviously gone to great efforts to catch up with him, so Romanovich spared him the dressing down about proper presentation and respect.

"Thank you, private. Did he say what he wanted to tell me?"

"No… sir… just said it… was urgent, sir."

"Very well, private. Dismissed." Romanovich turned on his heel and marched off to the base commandant's office. If he knew the colonel, he'd be occupying that room while the commandant was gone.

He wasn't disappointed. Colonel Volkov reclined in the commandant's leather backed chair, booted feet propped up on the vintage wooden desk, reading a paperback. Romanovich stood before him and snapped to textbook attention. "Sir!"

"At ease, lieutenant, at ease." Romanovich held the salute for half a second more, then dropped to parade rest.

"Sir, you wished to see me?" Volkov dog eared the book, set it aside, then sat up straight.

"Indeed, lieutenant." He folded his hands together and leaned forward on the desk. "I have a special task for your group."

"Sir?" Volkov smiled and reached into his desk. He extracted a sealed manila envelope and passed it across the table.

"You know the details of the incident by now." It wasn't a question so much as it was a statement. Romanovich nodded stiffly - he'd lost several good men. "Good. Then you know that a truck is missing as well." He nodded again, wondering where the colonel was going with this line of reasoning.

Volkov motioned to the envelope. "Go ahead and open it, lieutenant. Just keep in mind, everything said here is classified need to know. I'm sure you know the penalties for violating that." Romanovich broke the seal on the envelope and extracted the papers within. There were several photos of a truck, along with a strange device he vaguely recognized.

"That truck was taken during the incident. As per standard DCI procedures, it is outfitted with a radio beacon. We're not sure if the perpetrators forgot about the beacon, or whether they simply didn't know about it. In any case, they played right into our hands." Volkov pointed to one of the other papers in Romanovich's hands.

"DCI tracked the beacon until the coordinates listed on that paper. At that point, the beacon ceased transmitting, presumably due to the destruction of the truck. But, as you can see, the location of last transmission gives us a very good idea where they were headed."

Romanovich felt a smile working its way onto his face. "So you're saying…"

"Yes, lieutenant. Feeling up for a trip to Briggs?"

* * *

DMZ

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0715 Hours

"And you're absolutely, one hundred percent, beyond a doubt, _completely sure _that you left nothing behind?"

"Yes, yes, come on! We have to get back to Briggs!"

"Yeah, get a move on, asshat. We need to get your passenger to the hospital. Besides, you're not out of hot water just yet, mate. Now, march." Private Jaeger gave Petrov a strong shove in the back, almost stumbling him. Petrov cast a baleful glance backwards, but was unable to do anything with his zip tied hands. He settled for examining the smoking remains of the truck one more time. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the standard radio beacon in the truck until now.

"Alright, alright, I'm moving. Asshole." He added that last part under his breath. The group, now plus two members, trudged through the knee deep snow. Alphonse carried Riza, the reasoning being he'd be the last one to tire under the conditions and therefore was most suited to carry her.

"CP, this is Zulu 6! We are RTB, we have one wounded and one prisoner. Repeat, we have one wounded and one prisoner, requesting additional personnel to meet us on arrival, over!"

"Zulu 6, this is CP, roger that! Medical and security personnel are being dispatched now, they'll get home safe. CP, out!"

"Okay gentlemen, you know the tune, now dance to it! Double time!" They moved as quickly as they could through the snow, whatever trails they left behind quickly swallowed up by the falling white. They moved in a single column, spaced mere feet away from each other as so to not lose visual contact. Even with specialized gear, visibility was limited to not more than a few feet. People had been known to disappear even under better conditions.

Jaeger took point, his skill in tracking coming in handy to guide the group. Petrov came next, hands bound in front of him. Dawes followed, covering the point man and keeping an eye on Petrov. Edward and Alphonse trudged on in the middle, reason being that would be where they were most protected, buffered by the soldiers. Finally, Havoc brought up the rear, refusing to let Riza out of his sight.

They saw the headlights before they heard the sound of the engine. Relief was heralded by a large shape looming out of the storm, growing larger every second. A large, winter weather converted truck pulled up in front of them, tires throwing a plume of snow behind it. Two medics jumped out the back to meet them.

"Come on, get in! We'll get you back, you have priority with sickbay. Don't keep the docs waiting!" One of them accepted Riza's limp body from Alphonse, hoisting in her in a fireman's carry and nearly throwing her into the back of the truck. Havoc jumped in after her, followed by Petrov and Dawes. Edward and Alphonse climbed in last, along with the medics who immediately got to work in the suddenly cramped rear. Dawes took shotgun alongside the driver, ever vigilant for any threats.

"All bodies on board! Punch it!" The tires dug trenches into the ground as the vehicle lept forward. The medics worked feverishly with the limited supplies on hand, getting IVs going, applying burn dressings, antiseptic solutions, and bandaging whatever wounds they could get at. Havoc looked on as they worked, their faces bathed in a dim orange light from the solitary lantern. In the dim light, Riza looked even paler, even weaker. In his opinion, they couldn't get back to Briggs fast enough.

* * *

Fort Briggs

C Wing Sickbay

Intensive Care Unit

0735 Hours

"Prep surgery! Get IVs set up and ready to go!"

"All instruments sterilized and waiting!"

"Surgery bay is prepped, everything is ready to go!"

"Patient at Loading Bay 8!"

The C Wing Sickbay of Fort Briggs was the picture of controlled chaos. Surgeons and medics rushed around in a carefully choreographed dance. To an outside observer, it would have seemed random, frantic, even panicky but to the participants it was anything but. This was what they were trained to do, had done many times in the past. They knew the routine like a close family member. Everyone knew what to do, where to go, who's way to stay out of.

The moment the call had come down, a certain calm had settled over the sickbay. Without anything to do, a person began to think and when a person began to think, they began to worry. Worry about family, about friends, many in North City, now blanketed by the blizzard. But now, with a job to do and an urgent one at that, there was not time for worry and they embraced their duty like a long lost friend.

The double doors at the entrance of the sickbay burst open and a pair of soldiers rushed in, pushing a gurney. Instantly, medics swarmed the trolley, some connecting IVs, others pushing it towards surgery so fast the poor soldiers were simply left standing, hands grasping the air where half a second they'd gripped the handlebars. The two could only look at each other, shrug their shoulders helplessly, then trudge off to find a smoke. Or a drink. Or both.

Back in the ICU, the surgeons had managed to get Riza onto the table. There, they proceeded to cut away the clothes covering her more wounded areas. They paused when, in the process of cutting the uniform from her back, they saw the tattoo prominently sprawled across her skin, but professionalism took over and they continued working.

Back down in the loading bay, Havoc stood, torn between running after Riza or going to break the news to Roy. Dawes saved him by running off to the personnel quarters. Havoc looked after him for a second, then turned and broke into a flat out sprint, determined to reach the infirmary and break several world speed records in the process.

* * *

Fort Briggs

Personnel Quarters West

0740 Hours

"Mustang! Where the hell are you?!" Dawes said as he ran through the hallways, dodging soldiers and equipment. Several troopers lay flat on their asses behind him, staring at the ceiling and wondering what had just hit them.

"Mustang! Get your ass out h- oomph!" He was cut off as he slammed into another person, making both of them fall to the ground.

"What the- hey, Dawes! What the hell are you running for?!" Dawes looked up from rubbing his head and saw Breda, also picking himself and his equipment up from the ground.

"Looking for Mustang. Where is he?! There's something he needs to know!"

Breda raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? He's kind of busy, can it wait?"

"No, this needs to get to him right now!" Dawes' voice rose until it was nearly a shout. Breda backed up unconsciously, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Okay, okay, no need to shout. Here, he's in his temporary office, I can take you to him." Breda turned and jogged off towards the storage room Roy had appropriated as his office, Dawes hot on his heels. When they got there, Dawes gave only a perfunctory knock, not waiting for a reply before nearly kicking down the door.

"God!" Roy half-jumped out of his chair, fingers poised and ready to snap. He relaxed, but only slightly at the sight of a tired, harried Dawes, still dressed in cold weather gear. "What the hell, man?"

"No time, get to infirmary, fill you in on the way, move!" He grabbed Roy by the arm and pulled him out of the office. Roy shot Breda a questioning look, to which the man replied with only a befuddled shrug.

"Dawes, what the hell is this about?!"

"You know that lieutenant of yours? The one that went missing? Well, they found her!" The words hit Roy like a physical blow. He stopped in his tracks, causing Dawes to nearly trip over his own feet as he skidded to a halt in front of him "What?"

Roy shook his head, a tiny smirk on his face. "You know, you went a long, long way just to pull a prank. All of this? All the preparation? I got to say, it's a dick move if I ever saw one, but I must applaud the effort."

"The hell, sir?! What are you talking about? Havoc's waiting for you in the infirmary, come on!"

"Sorry, I'm not falling for that. Nice try, though. You can stop pretending now." Dawes growled in frustration, Mustang just wasn't getting it!

"Look, if I'm pulling a prank on you, I'll pay you… 100000 cenz. If I'm not, well, then I'm not. Come on man, just play along! For the money!" Roy couldn't deny that 100000 cenz was an attractive offer just to play along with this guy. _Ah hell, what's the harm? Gets me away from paperwork anyways. _

"Alright, lead the way."

"About fucking time, Mustang!" He turned and once again sprinted towards the sickbay, Roy following close on his heels. They slid down ladders, weaved their way through groups of soldiers and ran up stairs. In their wake was a field of toppled crates, scattered equipment, and stunned soldiers.

"We're… almost… there!" Dawes was in exceptionally good shape, a requirement for being posted out on the northern border, but a run through Fort Briggs would wind anyone. The two skidded to a halt just outside the infirmary.

"Made it!" Dawes pushed open the double doors, already searching for the room that held Mustang's treasured lieutenant.

Unfortunately a medic noticed them right then and came running. "What the hell are you two doing in the infirmary?! This is a closed area, no unauthorized personnel are allowed in here!"

"I-" Dawes started to speak up, but the medic was having none of it.

"Get the fuck out, you two, or I swear I'll-"

"Enough, soldier. These two are with me." Roy and Dawes whirled around to see none other than General Armstrong entering the infirmary, gaze ice-cold as ever.

"General! I-I didn't see you! These two are-"

"I don't care what they were doing, I'm giving them full access to the infirmary for the time being. Understood?"

"Yes, general!" The medic snapped a salute, shot a confused look at the pair, then jogged off to do medical things. Dawes and Roy stared, uncomprehendingly, at Armstrong.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there all day? Or are you going to do something worthwhile for once in your life and go see your lieutenant?"

"Come on man, let's go." Dawes took Roy by the arm and dragged him towards the room he'd pinpointed as the one Riza was in. He could tell through subtle hints such as the footprints on the floor, the way the doors swung as if opened recently, and the form of Havoc standing by the doors, yelling fruitlessly to be let in.

"Havoc, what is all this about?" Havoc spun around, then came to sharp attention when he realized who it was.

"Sir! You won't believe it, it's Riza! We found her out on patrol, the docs are trying to patch her up right now!" Something about the look in Havoc's eyes and the tone of his voice finally persuaded Roy that maybe there was something to this.

"Out of the way." He pushed through the door, knocked aside a pair of surprised medics, and saw, lying on the table, surrounded by surgeons-

"Riza."

* * *

Facility Gamma

Vehicle Bay

1000 Hours

"Are we all ready?"

"Da."

"Affirmative."

"One second… okay, ready for action."

"Very well."

Engines roaring, two trucks pulled out of the vehicle bay of Facility Gamma. As one, they turned, facing south.

Their cargo? A platoon of hardened, vengeful soldiers.

Their goal? Revenge, plain and simple.

Their destination? Fort Briggs.

"Let's go."

* * *

**A/N:** _So, uh, yeah. *Grabs water bottle* Sorry about the wait. *Stuffs canned food in backpack* Um, life and stuff. *Picks up first aid kit and flashlight* So, this chapter isn't that good, sorry? *Pumps shotgun* Please help me improve it, I couldn't make it any better! *Steps through doorway* So if you need me… *Closes door* I'll be in my bunker! *Seals door just as angry mob hits* _


End file.
